What if all killers (mass or otherwise) were like Malcom X 0.5? or Brock Turner?

I wrote this the day after the mass killing in Orlando’s Latin LGBTQ nightclub, but I didn’t want to share it until later, when everything comes to light- or as much as the media allows before people with human decency fills out the rest of the ‘terrorist attack’ schtick that so many news outlets are peddling.

My dear sister, who has a warm outlook of the world- so warm that she says things that I would never think to say, one of which was this: I so wish people would stop calling it a terrorist attack based on his religion rather than the fact that it’s a terrorist attack because it’s an act of terror. ūüėí

Which is the main reason people want to add more facts around this horrific crime against humanity. Terrorist attack and Islam is not mutually inclusive all the time- except in America. Probably, unless you’re black and/or Muslim. I give no leeway to any religion that somehow prompts a person to do something horrible. Sure, without religion, people can find the reason to do bad things (Brock Turner comes to mind- goddamn can you find a sleazier couple of words? If someone was introducing you to a Brock Turner, most of y’all will be ready to meet a complete asshole, admit it).

But I know for damn sure it’s easier to do a lot of bad things if you feel that some god is telling you to do it. Just like for some people, their ‘reliance’ on their faith¬†keeps¬†them from doing bad things- which is equally as terrifying as the other way around.

Yet, we all know that without religion, or any other catalyst one can make their crutch, the mind, influenced by genes and the environment and the words that float in and around, the television, the experiences within and without, can one day make a person think something that isn’t ok, is ok. Or ok enough.

I’ve already made this clear to my brother (again, this was the afternoon after the shooting in Orlando, before I even knew about it), but I met an absolute lunatic yesterday (June 11). When I had seen him around campus, I thought he was extremely fit and handsome, and since I was caught staring 89% of the time, I usually said hi, and he would say hi back.

Yesterday I was at a table outside, after the library closed, and I was biding my time until the bus came. Here comes strong, tall, and handsome. He drops his bag in the chair across from me, and a jug of water on the table, smiles, and says, “Let’s have a conversation!”

Let me tell you people, I’ve been homeless for a bit over a month. I’m finally going to be able to leave Crapsville for something I think is bigger and better. Every man who¬†I had more than a ten word conversation with has catcalled me and pinched and rubbed and hugged me without my permission, and two of them have solicited me for sex in the most awkward ways imaginable. One persistent fellow is dumb as FUCK and always telling me ‘advice’ that I did NOT ask for. (Is this the mansplaining that people talk about? Because nearly every man I talk to does this- like, I don’t need your help unless I ask for it, you know?)

So when a handsome man gives you space and gets right to the point, but not to that point, I get interested.

And I listened to his conversation. Note. Listened.

After five minutes.

yea oh no gif

After fifteen.

oh no gif

My bus nearly here.

oh no gif 2


And I was sooooooooooo disappointed. Like, I knew he was getting his education, staying fit, knew how to talk to people  (or thought really) but noooooooooooooooo- he was CRAZY.

And what made me sad sad sad in the pit of my stomach, in my freaking soul, was that he just didn’t know.

He couldn’t see it.

Okay, a snippet of his ‘conversation’:

“You don’t need to be scared of me, there’s nothing to be afraid of, if I was going to kill you I would have pulled out the gun I have, to protect myself, because everyone has a right to protect themselves, especially black men, you see how everyone’s killing black men, espeically cops, don’t trust the cops, they’ll kill you, they kill so many people and people trust them, i know you trust them because you’re looking at your phone, going to call them? I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to teach you, because learning is what you’re here to do, knowledge is power, don’t let anyone tell you different, even ¬†if you’re a woman, there’s that ¬†psychological-methological-pathological influence working on you, too easy, you’re getting distracted, looking at your phone, you know phones cause cancer, and so does that drink and all that sugar, you’ll lose your teeth, see, look, this is how my teeth look and they look like this because I take care of myself, and black men need to take care of themselves, remember what I said about my gun, yea, just turning it all back on itself, circle of life, that psychological-methological-pathological thinking that everyone is thinking, too easy…”

oh my god community gif

I was only too happy to finally walk to the bus, because it will be near a street and I’ll be safer. I had my brother a button away on my phone (the reason I was on my phone, just in case I antagonize him further). But then Malcom X 0.5 says he’ll walk me home, and I kept telling him I’m taking the bus (because the bus doesn’t run on Sundays, and I had to walk all day today), and he told me (in his rambling way) that I needed to lose weight and a bunch of other crazy stuff. And I was a black woman and he would protect me. To be honest, I actually believed that part 100%.

He said in different ways that if he wanted to hurt/kill me, how he would do it, where he would do it etc.

But one part I want to take from this, other than the fact that, damn, judging a book by its cover goes in so many directions, but also, this dude talked about the psychological-methological-pathological control that his medicine tried to hold over him.

oh gotcha

I knew he needed some psychiatric medicine. Probably a lot. All of it. But to know that he’s been¬†off? See this- people have seen this guy being crazy, gave him medicine, and somehow he felt that he didn’t need to take it, and then he felt it wasn’t going to make him better, and finally to Crazyville thinking that the medicine did more harm than good. And now he was how he was.

Brock Turner.

Okay. You’ve heard about him. Prolly read the letters from his parents. If you haven’t read his parents’ letters, here are some excerpts.


mom brock letter 2

Mom brock letter 1

This probably makes you irate. Hell, it should. But one thing that prolly works through your mind is if these people are serious. How entitled and self-centered can you get? It’s just almost unbelievable. How crazy can you get?

As yesterday told me, fucking insane. Nutzoid. But what’s the middle for that? Me who takes 600 mg of a pretty strong drug? But people think I’m pretty awesome then how about the Turner’s? The way these people are talking , and you know, they just don’t get the point. And how would you make them know? When every angle is covered by crazy and self-centeredness and complete ignorance? When they see Turner (or when he sees himself) as mostly innocent with a few mistakes (and still continue to be so) can you change their mind?

And that brings me to Orlando. And other killers (mass or otherwise). 90 percent of time, they know that what they’re doing is wrong (or seen as wrong by others), but the little chemicals conjoined in the brain makes someone pull that trigger. Sometimes those chemicals are helped by some religious upbringing and influences imagine endorphins flooding in knowing that what you did, and the scale of what you did, has pleased the god as you know it, and you’re going to heaven. IMAGINE IT. ¬†Of course the chemicals that resulted now to have you think the way you do will force you to think- I can’t kill, that’s not god’s way, that’s not my religion, even if god did say so, that’s not good, that would make me a bad human.

But what if someone didn’t have those chemicals. What if they needed pills or real experience to understand? How would you give someone a real experience?

And that’s just the mental aspect. Homophobia. Racism. Extremism (in any sense). What are we going to do? What can we do?


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