Do #Blacklivesmatter? An Essay On An Epidemic


That’s a question we should be asking ourselves. It’s painful, and it provokes images in American minds of Black people lying in streets, or viral videos of unarmed Blacks being murdered or choked out by police and left for dead. We also have the unspoken cases of numerous Black women being beaten and murdered or vigilante groups  shooting Blacks with no remorse or repercussion.

It’s a question that is not thoughtfully nor honestly considered because if we took the few seconds to ask ourselves “Do Black lives matter?”  instead of hash tagging it freely to social media posts, we would unequivocally conclude that no, Black lives don’t matter much at all.


Black lives don’t matter whether in Africa or in America and they haven’t since the ruthless beginning of the British owned American Empire.  In order to fully grasp this concept one can not view individual incidences of police misconduct, but you must begin to look at the brutality in its entirety and at the perpetrators of the abuse as one entity; one institution, or one imperialistic and supremacist force.


From it’s beginnings  it wasn’t just Black lives that didn’t matter to this unruly institution, but poor white lives and  Native American lives didn’t matter either. This mental disease has spread as the American Empire has spread, so now Iranian lives don’t matter,  Palestinian lives don’t mean a thing, Africans lives are wiped out by the millions and we can see evidence of this epidemic in all darker skinned nations around the world. But I digress…

Black lives do not matter to a specific and very small portion of the world’s population who are blinded by the frailty of the U.S. dollar and imperialistic dreams. But unfortunately this population creates policy in this country. The economic system of Capitalism at its core is designed to separate and exploit the masses of people in all races that are subjected to its force, while exponentially increasing the wealth of a few, which primarily happen to be white and Jewish elites. Capitalism is not and never will be an inclusive institution and its practitioners do not have self imposed morals. It’s inhumane, and cold to those who sweat under its tyranny. Now, because we live in a society where information is disseminated within seconds, one can easily see the effects of how this economic system is brutally enforced in America and around the world.


Wars on those relegated to poverty, rumors of wars against darker skinned nations, mass incarceration and alarming violence rates in the U.S. are just a few indications of how the American Empire really feels about a Black life.

Time and time again the world is given blatant evidence that a Black person standing up for his or her rights will end with them laying down in their own blood. The police departments across America are not at all concerned with how much you think you know about the law because the American laws simply don’t apply to Black or brown people. Police are insurance agents for the protection of State property. They are not here to protect and serve the middle class, working poor or poverty stricken. They serve an entity called “The State,” in which this State is controlled by corporations and power elites who consider human life as disposable, if that life doesn’t serve the interests of the State.

Its imperative that Black people understand that they have very little rights in America because they are not considered American citizens. They are depicted as a liability to the State, a burden to the country, or at best a necessary evil to the American way of life.

This conception does not include the incarcerated, who are viewed as commodities rather than liabilities, but still equally disposable. As a commodity you are property, which means you are bought and sold, harshly worked or taken out swiftly with no repercussion awarded to the murderous hand that delivered the fatal blow. To a capitalist mind, these lives are only worth the profit they can produce. No healthcare, prison-visitsno SSI, no labor unions. These men and women have no voice, no rights, and are often only remembered by those who are forgotten and suffering on the outside of the prison system.

Black lives don’t matter because on the US economic ladder they proudly hold their grips on the bottom rungs because they think they have advanced. Despite the minimal “progress” that’s been made through Civil Rights and politics, Black leaders left behind no agenda, no land, no resources for the masses of Blacks to own or bargain with, which shows that begging and taking beatings for an oppressive people to accept you as equal does not increase anything but your tolerance for more pain, which is exactly what Blacks in America have received by the hand that feeds them. From other Blacks they’ve been given pacifiers, tokens, and barricades in which they can express their frustration.


Despite the overwhelming display of intelligence by Black people in a culturally irrelevant education system, we are still told that the economic gap is due to lack of education without consideration to the billions of dollars that flow through Black churches every Sunday, or any of the other parasites that bleed Black economic development. We all can agree that Black students are historically malnourished by the American Education System, but when a spiritually oriented people are spiritually and historically deprived it creates a population of consumers awaiting a savior that Missionarieslooks like the creators of the condition they are in, which is literally insane. Black people, its time to define what wealth, education, and spirituality look like to you instead of carbon copying the ideas  given to you.

Not all people feel that Black lives aren’t worth a damn. Eventually there will come a time when we as a human race will realize the only qualifications you need to be brutalized by the State is no access to wealth, a protest sign, or a revolutionist’s mentality. That’s it. But for Black people living in America your status, gender, affiliations, career, or demeanor doesn’t matter and it hasn’t for a long time, we’ve just been one or all of three things. 1. ) Made too comfortable by tokens and infatuations of equality to see what has taken place around us, 2.) Too docile to stand up and say I’ve had enough, or 3.) Too narrow minded and tolerant to see the big picture as it relates to the entire race of Black people and not just your own phenomenology.

I ask…. What will the masses of Black people do in increasing discomfort or when the discomfort becomes unbearable? Will we stay in the pot of water until its boiling and too late?  Or will Black people get out of the water and find the culprit who turned up the heat? Learn from the mistakes of the boiled frogs of our past and then ask yourself, if black lives do matter, how much do they matter you?




A Poet’s Part Part 6: Socially Removed


Going viral doesn’t matter if your life is in a spiral.
Facebook likes don’t excite the life cycle.
It don’t even matter if I qouted out the Bible
Or a the Torah or the Quran,
My journey has to go on.
Living in these days when taglines make you famous
But when people know your character
It doesn’t speak the same.
Names built off clips and instagram pics
But the truth is,
False prophets won’t be missed in this existance….
I can make a wish but
Wishes don’t mean nothing when,
You’re wishing on people since,
People are adjusting every second.
Who I am now is much different than my yesterday.
Who I am today is what I gained from past lessons.
Who I will be is much different then my present
So remember me by what’s in me right now.
I could take a bow but these thoughts I have to let them out.
People wonder what I feel in moments,
So I tell them how.
Love me or hate me,
Disagree and debate me.
Listen to what I speak and agree,
It doesn’t matter to me.
Opinions move me in the slightest bit.
I can face my own fate
And take the backlash that its created.
I’ve waited many days to say the things I need to say.
Expressions in the moment may come out the wrong way.
Intentions pave the road to hell,
Faith the other way,
So I’ll always play the role the poet plays….

Reflections at 30…

I was watching commentary about the nuclear proliferation deal the United States made with Iran and as the guest was speaking he made a comment that sparked a tangent of thoughts.

The commentator was criticizing President Obama and the 15 year life span of the agreement, saying that this doesn’t stop Iran from making a nuclear weapon, they’ll just wait it out. He said “…to Americans, who often measure life spans in increments of 4 or presidental terms, that’s a long time. But to those who measure life in generations, 10 or 15 years is just a snapshot of time.”

This comment resonated in my spirit all that morning, because too often I’ve been guilty of looking at my life in small increments; in months to at most 4 or 5 years. This way of thinking can highlight the many “mistakes” or “missteps” which are part of the life process. Thinking this way can keep us bound by fine toothing through every action or decision and judging whether it was right or wrong. It can cause people to live in pain, guilt, anger, or embarrassment rather than accepting who they really are and the path they are on.

I’ve never really stopped and looked at the totality of my life but in this process of doing so, I now have a birds eye view of pitfalls and triumphs, the mistakes and glory, the tears of joy and sorrow that have occurred in my life span.

In the last 10 years, I’ve joined the military and traveled the world. I’ve been married and divorced and out of it produced 2 beautiful children who have given me the meaning of unconditional love.

In the last 10 years I survived a suicide attempt, truly believing  I had nothing else to live for after feeling the blunt force of humiliation.

And then…

I was blessed with an opportunity to host a radio show that stretched accross the world. I’ve delivered spoken word messages to thousands of ears and open hearts, all the while delivering documentaries and events to the beautiful people that I was called to.

I’ve been handcuffed and searched countless times and saw the inside of a jail on too many occasions.

I’ve lived in one of the most beautiful cities in America and within it, have experienced the sting of homelessness.

In the last 10 years I’ve felt the gentle carress of love’s warm embrace, and also the clamp of tainted love’s teeth.

I’ve been in the presence of the most interesting and beautiful people one could ever meet, likening them to angels since they appeared but only for a snap shot in my life, but redirected the course of my journey.

I’ve also come across evil forces, attempting to physically destroy my life or the purpose I’ve been given.

I’ve lost so much dead wieght to make room for the true friends this world saw fit to bless me with.

I’ve broken hearts and have been broken in spirit.

I’ve been cussed at, cursed, and publicly degraded; but praised, uplifted, and desired in the presence of those who hated me.

I’ve sat at the feet of some of the wisest men and women this world has produced, holding onto thier every word as if it were the breath that would save a drowning child.

In the last 10 years despite the tribulations, I’ve shed more tears of joy than tears of sorrow.

I’ve had noticeable spiritual growth and development, and have learned to take heed to the voice of righteousness that steers my course.

I’m in the best physical shape of my life.

I’ve gained understanding of the world I created for myself, and I aim everyday to learn something new about someone else’s world.

If someone were to ask me “Mulemvo, who are you?” I would explain to them that I am the sum total of all of my life experiences, the people I’ve encountered, and the energies that have yet to come.

I could shed ten thousand justifiable tears, or I could stretch myself everyday to give a thousand unjustified smiles to people I may never see again. I’ve impacted so many lives for the better, but I’ve also brought challenges with me, and I’m grateful that I was given a whole 30 years to do it.

To anyone who I have encountered, whether through acquaintance or business, email or phone call, performance, airwaves, or internet blog sites, friend or family, long-term intimate partners or for an immediate mutual need, I thank you for spending a moment in time with me. Whether we meet again or not you’ve helped me grow into who I have become.

And to My Creator, who has given me life and the wisdom to protect it, thank you for this last 10 years and the entire 30.

Peace & Blessings to you all.

Here’s to another 30…

Inside Nianda Speaks Preforms at The Venue on 35th’s Feature Sundays Part 2

Every last Sunday of the month The Venue on 35th in Norfolk, VA hosts an event called Feature Sundays, where artists from all over Virginia come and showcase their talents.

I was blessed with an opportunity to be on stage and pour out my heart. Thank you to all who attended and gave their hearts and ears to my view of life. It was an incredible experience.