Holla If You Hear Me

I know that I will never forget where I was when I heard that Tupac had died. I had been praying for him, pulling for him, begging for him to live. I needed him. I needed to hear more from that beautiful mind. I had only just gotten into his music that year. I have never been a fan of rap music because of its representation of women. I cannot support being called bitch and ho. I’m sorry, my standards are far beyond that.

It all started when I began looking into the communist party. Ironically, I was doing research about JFK, but learning that Tupac had been part of the Young Communists intrigued me. I knew that Angela Davis had supported the party back in the day, but I didn’t know that anyone was still serious about the party, especially black people.

As I researched, I found out more and more about Asada Shakur. I was perplexed by her life. She was like air for me, and I started reading everything that I could find about her. That led me to the Panther New York 21. I was engulfed in all things Black Panther and Tupac was at the center. I wanted to know more about this young man, and the more I found, the more I wanted.

I knew he was different and I knew that he was aware that he was different. I was worried for him. Something about this young man was standing out, and people who we thought were not paying attention were paying attention.

Who killed Tupac? Who killed MLK? Who killed Malcolm X? Who killed JFK? Who killed Medgar Evers? Who killed Biggie? I am bold enough to believe that the system killed them all. No one person pulled the triggers or are responsible for their deaths. Systematically they were all murdered because of what they were and who they were. Tupac was born with a tag on his head. Evil is patient. Evil will wait on you, and when you have forgotten that about that thing, it will peek up and bite your head off. That is what happened. Biggie didn’t kill Tupac. That’s crazy. Evil creates a false reality and feeds it to you. Once the door of your mind has been opened just enough, evil jumps in and takes the reigns. Evil does not always have to win.

I read “Evolution of a Revolutionary” by Afeni Shakur and Jasmine Guy, and I slept with that book under my pillow for the longest time. I needed it. I wanted it to be close to my mind. The final words of the book paint a picture of Tupac being alive in another country walking into the sunset. I have wanted to pick it up again and read it, absorb all of the words into my being and never let them free again, but I have not had the strength. With all of the killing of Black men that has been going on and no one being held accountable for it, I could not pick up the book. I could not absorb what I needed from it in anger. I am angry.

“Waiting for the day to let the rage free Still, me, till they kill me”-Tupac Shakur

The voices that speak the loudest make the most sense, reach the most ears are the ones that are silenced the quickest. Do you love anything enough to die for it? If you don’t love something enough to die for it, then you have not loved.

How do you want to be remembered? I don’t want to be remembered as the woman who tried this or that. I don’t want to be remembered as the woman who failed at this or that. I want to be remembered as the woman who did this and that. The woman who made a way for other women to do this or that. The woman who died for what she believed in and lived for it every day.

“Proving nature’s law is wrong it learned to walk without having feet. Funny it seems, but by keeping it’s dreams, It learned to breathe fresh air.”-The Rose That Grew From Concrete, Tupac Shakur

I realized the talent called Tupac as his life was coming to an end, but in finding him, I found seeds that I planted and my knowledge became a beautiful rose garden. A place where growth is always possible and where can’t is impossible. One thing led to another, and I was given a larger piece of the puzzle.

Imagine what your life would be like if you were free if your mind was free of what others would think if your heart was free of what others would say. Find that place before it is too late and love it. Love it so much that you would die for it. Love it like you got it to grow from concrete.

The Writer

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