I can't support the silencing of truth. I certainly can't be a part to it. Authoritarian regimes require such silencing of citizens in order to function as the one and only source of truth. Rebels within this systemic oppression of truth are to expect others will be taught to recognize them as out of step, "radical," and too dangerous for the safe sphere created for the citizens by the authoritarian state.
At the time of this writing, Trump's storm troopers are beating, pepper spraying, and arresting protesters. And worse, it's it's 1984 , and the protesters are swept up by unidentified troopers. No names and no affiliation tags.
The capitalists are afraid of what they see in the street. Black lives matter they say now. But what about later, when the backlash takes on steam, when November is two months away and then one and then the election is a week away. What then?
This began not incidentally with the COVID-19 lockdown. But yesterday, I receive a call from a national Black organization. It's a woman I think is the head of the local branch. Finally a response. She's on her way. Ready or not! She has information from the realty and from the police department.
I was headed downstairs to the community to nap since I wasn't allowed to sleepthanks to the white woman tenant next door to me, on the other side of the living room wall. A racist and a bully, this woman has been harassing me since the lockdown, which has led me to suspect she was working to rid my apartment from a menacing Black woman. And little did it matter that I had cancer and is at least ten years older.
The caller arrives and, at first sight, I know. I don't see kin. But she looks as familiar as the neighbor next door, as the manager who's never had the time of day for me, as familiar as the realty. And then I know for sure by the way she wants to look into my eyes and, at the same, time, look away. She has a mission to accomplish. For me? For the Black organization?
I lead her to the community room in the building. We take seats at a table. I think the less my neighbor knows, the better. But then, there's been evidence to suggest that my neighbor is friends with the local manager. She knows. Maybe the reason I had to be kept awake was so I would look as if I lost my mind!
The Black woman is nervous. She can't look at me and yet she stares. She's ruffling the papers and pulls out several sheets. It's from the realty. It's a sheet with a list that covers the page. It's a narrative of my contact with the realty.
Starting in December"
No, I didn't contact the realty in December. I didn't have anyone pounding on my wall or using a sub woofer set at base to harass. This just for openers. Foul smells. General creepiness off that wall.
No, I didn't contact the realty then. The woman below her did. She sent a letter to management. I didn't become involved until I was asked by the woman below and a woman on the side of this woman called by the neighbors, the "thumper."
Never mind, my not so kin has a plan. There's a plan. It's the realty's plan. She's speaking on behalf of the realty, but she thinks I'm both stupid and radical. Sister or not so sister, which is it? She let's me know at least ten times that she is here to help me.
The realty is willing forget the non-renewal of the lease. You can live here month to month. The realty is willing to move you to another apartment, but there's a condition.
Now I know. I see how she's looking at me, and she's no where in my community!
You'll have to agree to a psychological write up!
The authoritarians never rest. She's a nervous enabler; however, their narrative of my culpability is working just fine.
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