So...I'm driving passed the Metro bus stop (D.C.) and I see a brutha struggling. The fight to keep his destiny in mind without exposing himself.
My eyes struggle to make the image disappear to no avail. An advocate for the black male, I always want to be a source of support. I'm saddened by the site and I want to help.
I slow down. He's still stuggling with his right hand and pulls with his left. It's a tug of war to maintain his dignity. Red light. I stop.
After a few more attempts, the brutha decides it's best to scoff down the carry out delight (chicken and fries) than to continue the fight...to pull up his pants. Three layers later, I see his moon and I'm the one cracking up.
Still traveling,
A. Brown Girl
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