DSv18: About the Accusations

So we're clear, I tried to talk to the person at the center of this; they refused to speak to me like a human being; it could be argued that I was a discard. They perhaps maybe even targeted me, because they thought they would get an outsized reaction they could use to cover their trail. Regardless, I tried to talk to them first.

We live in a world that is constantly throwing sexuality at us; and it disconnects us from reality ... while fragmenting the family which provides the initial foundation for reality.

My mother, sister and child we all taken from me; I was supposed to be broken so that others could put me back together again, however whoever wanted ...

But I never forgot those I was taken from, while their bodies were taken from my presence, their essence remained; I'm not saying I'm perfect, but that is what kept me from negating my mistakes, and kept me inspired to learn from them instead; that's what made me intrinsically want to be a better person.

I will not allow their memory, or lives, be stained by the ugly, intentionally misdirecting words of others, no, not ever ... I'm not perfect, and I will own my mistakes; while I sure as sh!t don't need to air them all out, just to prove that I'm a human being.

Though I'm not letting what was said go, without comment.

I get why/how I asked for this to be in my life; I'm strong and intelligent enough to navigate it with dignity and integrity ... while the same cannot be said about others ... this person reached out to me to initiate conversation, knowing there was mutual interest. Naturally a relationship blossomed.

And at the time her medicine portrayed me as a caring, loving and safe entity; we had known of each other for over 4-5 years, followed each other on social media ... I wasn't a stranger, I wasn't new ... we'd talked before, and there was mutual interest, it just wasn't the right time.

Some difficult life things happened for her soon after, and we continued talking; her sacred medicine that is supposed to care for her as well, and tell her things, told her that I was a safe and playful entity ... though she also tried to frame me as a child, which should have been a warning ...

Because by the end of it, her medicine was telling her that I am a horrible, disgusting person; who has done horrible things, and that it will take time, but I "can be forgiven" ... like a child.

Something is off with that, to me ... like, if I'm such a bad person, and your medicine connects you to an all-knowing entity ... why didn't your medicine tell you about that in the first place.

And how is it that someone initiates a relationship with me, and by the end of it, I'm getting accused of heinous, cruel, disgusting, dangerous things that never happened, and this woman gets to act like a victim?

While protecting a predator, and perhaps becoming one herself.

I will not name this person, for the sake and safety of their children.

Because if you're going to enter into yage ceremony with two gay men, and the 21-year-old son of your friend, who also happens to be good friends with your own 17-year-old son ...

And you're going to tell me that you got your sexual jollies off by doing that, so I'm not needed ... and that you have other men, so again, I'm not needed.

And then you call yourself a sacred guider of souls ... no.

I'm not allowing my character, or my being, to be sacrificed so that someone can continue to falsely play such a role.

The individual who is invested in perpetuating the lie that was given to them ... context.

They are a product of an extramarital affair by their mother, who hid it from the husband, who would become the unknowing stepfather, was also a womanizer, and stepped out on the relationship as well. He was eventually struck blind.

Regardless, violence happened early in her life, and she never knew her biological father; she is not in communication with the father of her first child, while the father of her second child plays a supporting role in our story below.

When I first met him, he told us a joke about an indigenous man who did not know how to complete intercourse with a woman, and so used a wood board instead; this set the tone how I perceive his behavior and intellectual capacity.

The woman invested in these lies once did therapy work for an individual who was allegedly S.A.'d by Nahko of Medicine for the People.

Who partially came up with Wookiefoot ... who are from Minnesota; I knew many of them, and couldn't really stand any of them. One of the bass-players for Medicine was a kid, last-name-Thomas, from Foley, Minnesota; which was right next to Little Falls, MN, where my cousins grew up. The Thomas kid was always an egotistical prick who eventually had allegations posted against him, and his career took a tumble because of it maybe.

Although with Nahko, this kid and others I'm not mentioning ... the allegations were accurate, and in the case of the one I'm not mentioning at least ... they coke-heads ... drug-addicts ... Cannabis is my vice ... people who do cocaine ... that's a whole other class of stupid, which I've never been interested in ...

This isn't my first time being put through something like what this person is putting me through, though it is absolutely on another level, Christ almighty; but I would rather be seen as violent towards adults, than a pedophile.

Yes, until this is resolved to my satisfaction, I am a threat to her ex-husband; his jealousy, and stupidity, started this. And he is a predator himself.

The worst part being, it is a fascinating story with so much psychological upheaval that dissertations can be written about all of it, I'm just scratching the surface!

This person pushed these very adult conversations, and now wants to use their severity as an excuse to run and hide ... because she knows her ex-husband has an actual history of this type of behavior; she found the evidence on his phone.

So she's pulling strings from the shadows, to sabotage relationships, because that is all that feels safe to her; this is her father wound. She never had someone to help her navigate the consequences of her behavior. It is not my wound, nor my responsibility to carry for her. She has been surrounded by questionable men her entire life, she should blame her mother; as now she needs to learn to choose differently.

The consequence of perpetuating lies, is putting people's lives at risk.

It is entirely reasonable of me to feel the need to defend myself, and prefer radical transparency, so long as she maintains her words to be true. Nor am I going to live my life battling demons, because she thinks I contend with them – she is considered an individual of repute in her community, and so leverages that to play judge and jury.

I am able to start looking towards having a healthy relationship with a partner, and I will not have this person's stories haunting my future partner either.

I will not have these stories haunting my future, my friends, nor anyone else.

No whispering in shadows; if you've got something to say, say it with your full chest, out loud, for all to be able to hear; let the community converse.

Next, yes Dr. Joe ... if you tell a woman to use sexual imagery to sell ancestral medicine ... you are beyond disgusting and you should not be allowed any where near humans.

If you call yourself a doctor while doing so ... people should know that that is your view of how medicine should be marketed – are you trying to be a pimp?

What was said is very serious, and will rightfully not lay to rest until it is to my satisfaction. I will not allow anyone to knowingly go out and spread false stories of such nature; especially when it is an attempt to hide the bad behavior of others.

And so I've written and published my reply, in English and Spanish.

I will not go searching for anyone to hurt, but if someone comes across my path; they've not even apologized, or acknowledged, their behavior; whatever forgiveness I display is not charity, but permission to lie and abuse.

I guess this story is a warning, to stay away from these people; and if you need to stay away from me, I'm fine with that ...

I need not turn the other cheek, but write of my experience, for others to decide themselves. The allegations were thrown in my face, and before I had time to figure out anything; the accuser had run away.

And now it is publicly known, why I avoid people, and have little tolerance for questionable behavior of any sort.

It's impossible for me to be silent when the words of others are putting others in danger; that's just not in my operational manual to enable or allow, if I can do anything about it.

I'm the type of man who actually checks his friends, and himself ... I ask my friends to check me.

I just got sent another student ...

That's the center of it all; I'm at a really good place in life, and it took a lot of effort to get to this place – my vice is cannabis, not hard-drugs, not alcohol, and not sex ... it's cannabis.

And pastries ... with arequipe ...

I like cannabis as my vice, because it means that I don't have to worry about, and I've never had to worry about, any other vices ... they never interested me.

I'd rather smoke a joint than concern myself with a woman; the woman who bore me left me at an orphanage, I wasn't mad at her until she acted snidely without reason; the woman who bought me treated me like a part, and eventually collaborated with the mother of my child to keep my child from me.

And I'm learning to let go of cannabis, because there is a young woman who would likely find life more delightful if I did ... and making her happy is just about the only thing in the world that will ever matter to me.

But that don't stop people from trying ... hell, sometimes, it makes them try harder!

Ya know, I really have to give credit to the man who bought me ... his father was an alcoholic and a womanizer; while he was neither of those things; and that is to his credit.

From what I hear, my biological grand-father was not the most admirable person at all times either ... and this maybe gave me some heredity debt/obstacles to surmount in life.

The man who bought me, I can say he did help raise me in this way; by giving me an example of what it takes to shed such generational patterns.

There is a story that an individual here in Colombia has found reason to peddle ...

We're going to confront that story here and now.

The allegation is that I pursued a 16 year old, and that I slept with prostitutes.

Allegations like these ruin people's lives; it is tantamount to attempted murder.

I will not be playing about this, and anyone who doesn't like that can completely fuck off a cliff with cement wings.

The allegation was initially made by a woman named Kathe, in the town of San Cocho Antioquia; and it was said to be supported by Sandra, who later said that she didn't want anything to do with this ...

Within 72 hours of the allegation being finally enunciated to me with enough clarity that I could discern what was said, and by whom; I had someone doing investigative work to get to the bottom of what happened ... and I learned what was actually said, by whom.

Kathe was then-friends-with-benefits with the ex-husband/baby-daddy (Yhon) of a woman I dated seriously for a time, a few years ago now; this woman is a practitioner of ancestral medicine.

This woman was told these lies, and in turn used her ancestral medicine to divine that there was more, and it was worse ... or I don't know.

Because none of it ever happened; I heard what I needed to, which was then followed by a woman in hysterics that I did not create ... this wasn't the first time her ex-husband had done this to her or someone in her life.

To be forthright, I tried to help at the start ... because I was able to understand how frustrating it felt for him; but I also wanted to assure him that I was not trying to replace him as the father of his child. I knew that feeling, and I would always support him as the father of his child.

But that message was never received ... sent, but not received.

Consequently I was discarded; partly in an effort to continue neglecting that her ex-husband, and the father of her child, had questionable photos of their friend's 18-year-old kid on his phone.

I'm not perfect

And I'm not trying to say that I am perfect; but those errors are not my mine.

For immediacy of the story, I am able to track my behavior for the past, nearly, 42 years, with others able to stand testament to who/how I was, with overlapping timelines, across three continents, since the age of 5, arguably since the age of 6 months old, the Friday after Thanksgiving, 1984; the day I arrived in Minneapolis, from the orphanage in Bogota.

Independent witnesses, with university level credentials and beyond; I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I've tried in earnest to learn from each of my experiences; because what I desire is partnership through which I can show my child how we, as humans, are the best when we can be in love, committed and evolving together, safely, securely and with gratitude and joy at the center of it all.

Not the easiest thing to find in this world, especially when you're a scary-looking brown man.

Regardless, when I was 20, I conceived a child with a high-school sweetheart; when I was 21, that child was organically born directly into my hands, not a doctor's hands, my hands!

And that has dictated the rest of my life; I am a man, and men have urges. But as a father, I have a duty to act responsibly about those urges. I am not perfect, but pedophilia, rape and sleeping with prostitutes are not my mistakes.

I know my life, I know why I lived my life the way I did and I know how I lived that why; this is why I can say these things.

As before I had my child, I had my mother and my sister in my heart; I did not want to come to them as a man with such stains upon his soul – I did not want to do that to my mother, I was never mad at her for leaving me at an orphanage.

I never wanted revenge for being born, I wanted to let my mother know that I loved her and wished to help care for her, her life, and our land.

As I tell my own child, you can't make good choices if you don't have good options.

Sometimes the best choice is to do nothing; while in this case, apparently I've determined that the best choice is to write this piece.

I know my life. I know why I lived my life the way that I did.

And that is why I can say these things.

And that is why I will not allow these stories to haunt me, or anyone I love.

Pueblo Pequeño, Infierno Grande

We'll call the town San Cocho ...

In the little pueblo of San Cocho ...

A few years earlier I made two requests through Facebook – an FB Adoption group, a moderator of-which was dating a private investigator – I found my mother!

At the same time I made a post looking to connect with indigenous people in the area – and I actually got a hit; I met with a woman who introduced me to two other young men.

One of whom was from our pueblo San Cocho, we'll call him Stupid, who I would later find out said, I found a gringo we can take money from, to an individual I befriended for a time (the farm owner).

Part way through the pandemic, I moved out of the city and to the pueblo of San Cocho, to eventually live at the farm outside of the pueblo.

Though in the pueblo, I met Kathe ... culturally referred to as a gordita, with a darker complexion; she has three children, last I knew ... and more than one, likely more than two, baby-daddies ... if I'm not mistaken, which I could be, but ... statistically seems unlikely.

I also met Sandra, who is indigenous through her mother via blood quantum – doesn't really look it, to be honest; not trying to say anything other than, mentality + lived experience = dissonance.

She has two baby-daddies, but don't tell the first baby-daddy, because he thinks that he's father to both of the kids.

Are we having fun yet ?

Long Road Home

At a time before this, I was living in Boyaca; after the holidays I thought to return to Antioquia, and planned to spend New Year's Eve alone at the farm just outside of San Cocho; owned by our friend from earlier, who was friends with Stupid.

I did not know that Stupid's then-friend had also told Sandra that she could use the farm over New Years ...

Sandra brought her mom and dad, as well as her kid, Kathe and Kathe's middle kid.

But now we need to actually back up a bit ...

I'll Tell Your Mother!

It's a small pueblo, and we were three men living on a farm ... with a small music studio and instruments; curiously enough we are all girl-dads as well, not saying that means everything, or anything ... but it was something that brought us together.

While in town there was a group of young boys, 14, 15, and 16 ... you would have thought the 14 year old was the 16 year old ... and that the 16 year old wasn't the oldest ... Why say this, because it was funny – and a fact, the kids were great, and I was able to tell them how writing is a process for self-exploration and growth most importantly.

It was a small pueblo – they visited us at the farm to make music on occasional weekend afternoons; we would record their raps and encourage them to write poetry. And sometimes they would help us make arepas, which were sold in the pueblo.

That's it; their moms signed waivers for them to perform at a public concert in another pueblo that my friend booked for them as well.

My friend (the farm owner) and I had initially connected over a shared appreciation for Khalil Gibran; which, if you know you know – and if you don't, that's on you now.

There was another "kid" ... the legal age for consent in Colombia is 14, for cultural context ... I consider most people to be kids, mind you ... back to this kid, he was 18 – and he was a bit more serious about writing raps and making music, his mom sold food in the pueblo park; he was a San Cocho townee with roots and reach.

Sandra seduced him, I saw her do it at the farm, right in-front of my eyes, and eventually she told his mom that he was doing drugs and other risky sexual behavior ... he wasn't, he was hanging out with us, smoking weed, eating mushrooms, making music ... his mom knew about the weed, and the mushrooms grow in the surrounding hills.

His mom also knew us, we saw her most every day we were in-town and my friend had been living there for quiet a few years – he was the local rapper/producer/pot-head/arepa-con-queso-maker ... she pierced my nose ... that's not who her son is, but Sandra still tried ... he now works as a bartender at a very solid restaurant in Medellin – his other interest was fermentation and he is quickly becoming a very adept mixologist.

He has a mother and sister in his heart as well; we work to give them ease and joy.

Some people

I stayed too late in the pueblo, and the motorcycle wasn't working for some reason ...

I needed to stay in the pueblo.

Sandra had an apartment with an extra bed.

I played with her kid for a bit that evening; and then I talked to her baby's daddy on the phone – he spoke English, Sandra didn't really, I guess ...

I tried to tell him things were good; because they were.

There were two other kids in town that I knew that his kid was playing with; Kathe's middle kid and one other, a boy, his parents were together in raising their child – also friends of mine who have since moved out of the pueblo.

Father-to-father I wanted to try and convey that his kid was safe, and things were well ... what else was I supposed to say ... Sandra literally just handed me the phone like, hablas con el, you talk to him.

I had no idea what was happening ... I just needed a place to stay until morning ... yikes.

Three Beds

There were three beds; her kid's bedroom with a kid's bed, her queen-sized bed in her room, and a small bed/couch, in the living room ... where I thought I would sleep ...

I thought.

She had her kid sleep in her bed ... and then after putting her kid to sleep, she came out of her room in a silk gown ... and said something to the effect of ... some people just like sex.

Ok ...

I didn't know what I was supposed to do about that, and I did not take the opportunity explore sexual relations with her; so she told me to sleep in her kid's bed ...

When I woke in the morning she was crying and fighting with her baby's daddy ... and her kid just looked at me like, I dunno – it's a thing.

I felt bad for the kid, but the busses were running at that hour, and I had no need to stay ...

I left and never looked back.

Actually she cleaned herself up a bit, and insisted on making breakfast ... women ... sometimes it is all for show though, sadly, sometimes it feels like you'll never really know.

Either way, breakfast, then I went about my way; I didn't want to be rude.

I honestly didn't care ... but I wasn't going to run out of her house, even if she was in the state she was in – it wasn't towards me, and she had no reason to behave that way towards me ... if she had, than I likely would have left immediately.

Again, this is why I didn't sleep with her ... or one of the reasons, I wasn't attracted to her being at the top of that list ... but I could see she was manipulative and unstable.

That's usually a package deal; and I had already seen her seduce the other kid.

Happy New Year!

Just to review – we're now back at the farm outside of San Cocho over New Year's – I'm at the farm, while Sandra, Kathe and the crew have recently arrived as well.

Emotionally I was processing quiet a bit at the time; I won't get into it, but it did involve a woman who I was romantically interested in at the time.

I had recently spent time with my mother and grandmother ... Sandra was indigenous, it was interesting to meet her mother, and father; I tried being honest – it was indigenous tings all-around; faith, hope and love type shit.

Like most vampires do, Sandra sucked up the energy, but ... perhaps it was too much for her to process; because again ... I did not desire her nor Kathe.

There was weed out on the table, I thought to roll a joint ... that's how things work on the farm ... I lived there with two other men, musicians, fathers – they told me I was equal in ownership as they (I knew the financial situation with it all, won't go into details, but they had the stability to assert as they did, and for all intents and purposes, I was owner of the domain as much as they) ... it was what it was ...

I asked Sandra if that was alright ... the joint.

She flipped out ... DON'T TOUCH MY THINGS ... and basically threw a fit over respecting people's things, I got a small lecture ...

I put the joint, un-smoked, back on the table ... and asked why her dad was using my rope and headphones without ever asking me.

After which I started carrying a machete in my hand every time I left my room, which I rarely came out of ...

The next day, while they were all eating at the table, I took a video that included their kid's faces; I think Kathe, or Sandra, threw a fit about that, eventually – not at that time though ... I deleted the video upon request ... crazy people ... ergo the machete ... I did not want any of them to feel safe getting within arm's reach of me.

Establish a solid perimeter; everything should be negotiable with words.

Whatever accomplished that, was worth it at the time, in my then-opinion.

They were guests ... they didn't own the space, nor me ... they were leaving within 24 hours ... I just needed to survive that long ... as apparently Sandra had called our mutual friend and told him to call the police and have me removed from the farm.

Sandra's indigenous mind you ... she's special because of that, knows things.

Can do things ...

Thankfully my friend did not oblige her request.

Eventually she left; and thankfully I never directly dealt with her again, until this latest incident.

The Child In Question

All lies are born built on grains of truth; though just as we were advised not to build our houses on grains of sand, nor ought we build stories on grains of truth.

If there was any 16-year-old, she would have been an 18-year-old, and this is that story.

Our 18 year old friend from earlier, the rapper/mixologist, had another friend who was an attractive young girl/woman ... named Betty, lets say; 18 as well.

I could tell that she thought I was cute; we often crossed paths in the pueblo ... etc etc ... I never did anything until one day, I asked if I could take her and her friend out for a drink and conversation; sometimes in order to gently break a fantasy, you need to dance through it, carrying reality firmly in-hand.

As soon as she learned how old I really was ... any thoughts of me being cute were out the window ... she thought I was maybe 27 ... jajaja, nope, much older hun.

It was all totally normal, her and her friend, they had tamarind drinks, I had a Pilsen ... they were a few years older than my daughter was at the time ... it was just interesting to see how they operated, tbh ... and to see the pueblo/world through their eyes for a moment.

We walked around the town a bit, she and her friend said hello to a few other people, and then we went and sat on the steps of the church in the central park ... and I got to see a few young kids come up and holler at her, and friends talk to her and her friend ... just got to see the world through eyes I would never otherwise really see; my own daughter had been taken from me.

I never pursued Betty romantically; and I haven't talked to her since I moved out of the pueblo shortly after. I don't have her phone number and I never followed her, nor tried to connect with her, via social media.

What's Normal?

There was another individual I used to hang out with, friend-of-friends, super solid guy, smart, hard-working, with direction in life, lived with family, solid bonds, kind family, mid 20's maybe ... he was dating a younger girl (16-17 maybe) ... while on many nights, when I lived in the pueblo, we would all be hanging out together in the park.

Me, him, her, her mom, and her younger brother, and bunch of other people ... later I would meet her mother's boyfriend ... the mother was a solid woman, and the daughter was intelligent and capable as well; the younger brother was smart, age 10-12 maybe, and had good energy ... he always wanted to play soccer, was always carrying a soccer ball, and I was never one to deny the opportunity.

Who was I to judge? Not my thing, but I was mid-thirties, and I have a solid policy about potential partners needing to be within 10 years of my age ... which makes them at least 10 years older than my child; and so more capable of being cognitively useful in the relationship, which matters to me.

There was a woman that did catch my eye in town, we'll call her Jeri ... she worked at the local tele-comms store ... she was cute, in my opinion. But she had two kids herself, and I was not at a place in life where I was able to consider having such energy in my life, so I never pursued her.

Medellín

Before that I lived in Medellín, and I lived with people who would have known if I was sleeping with prostitutes ...

Lulu never would have allowed it under her roof, her grand-daughter was at home too-often ... it just wasn't that kind of place, though I did make a little song-cita with her nephew ... many evenings were spent dining on aguapanela and home-made patacones.

And it wasn't really needed at the other place, which was basically a club with music until 6am most mornings – I'm still friends with the woman I lived with there; she and her then-partner have since separated though. If I was interested in sex, I was able to get it there, and never would have had to pay for it ... I was maybe supposed to make a pass at the woman who tattooed me, I met through them?

There was the psychologist I rented a room from in Envigado ... I had a super small shoebox in Itagüí for a hot minute, that's a possible place ... apparently there are hotels around where you can rent rooms for a few hours ... kinda news to me ... as again, that was never what I was looking for ...

I met three women via Tinder ... slept with one (also a mother, within my age-bracket +/- 5 years, it was consensual lust; she was a graphic designer, fully-employed), we lost contact, I never met up with the other one, and I'm still connected to and conversational, but never slept with, the third; she was studying gender relations when we met, maybe doing her masters, and now works in the field in the capital, and has a life-partner.

There was also a woman, who organized English classes for kids that I taught with another woman from Europe in one of the comunas, who offered her body to me. I was too inarticulate at the time to see that, but that's what that was at that time.

In Conclusion,

I'm not built for casual sex ... and I'm not mad about that.

I'm not saying I'm perfect, I was bought by demons after all ... but I did seek to learn from my mistakes, and I perhaps evaded many problems in my 20's due to focusing on how to survive for the sake of a child. While for demographic/anthropological reasons, I wasn't as social as the typical individual might have been at that time, at that age.

In Minneapolis, one-person is able to say anything about me, that person and I discussed what happened soon after it did; each hopefully having learned valuable lessons. I had three one-night stands, one of which was fully coital in nature. All consensual, the women were very open about their interest in me, I led by following, in a sense.

(Dear men, women who want you will give you their bodies, you don't need to take anything ... but the heart and mind come attached; that goes both ways ladies.)

If I wanted to pursue lust, money was not the prohibitive factor.

I'm not mad about any of it ... while I was raised by a religion that told me that the physical world isn't real, and that there is a spiritual world beneath, above, within and beyond, all of it; so I learned to try and pay attention to that world; I'm not saying it's easy, and I'm not saying I'm always trying to test the boundaries ... but that I'm thankful, I may not have all of the physical riches of the world ...

Well actually, yea ... as I told another friend the other day ... I knew that my child would have her basic needs cared for, food/clothes/shelter ... so I was able to focus on everything but money ... I got enough money to survive, obviously, but my sole focus was not myopically centered on the accumulation of material wealth at-all-costs, long-story-short.

Instead, I have work that matters to me, and I have opportunity to pursue.

I have shelter; I have food.

I have a computer, and internet access, with a large window next to my bed.

I can go get fresh produce within a few blocks most any time of the day, on most any day of the week.

And whenever I get the inkling, I can send a message to my daughter telling her how wonderful life is because she's in it; and how thankful I am – because the greatest gift that I can give my child, is my own well-being, gratitude and joy – and attention;

I am not of the belief that you can give your child too much attention, and I would prefer to err on the side of too-much, rather than too-little.

On the other side of that coin ... I am of a mind to defend and protect what I've found and built ... those who would compromise this well-being, gratitude and joy ... they receive the opposite, my ire, contempt and derision.

Which has now been made public in a way that I am at least comfortable with ... as I will not have such things be said about me, by people who will claim to know secrets ... when it is they themselves who are trying to hide bad behavior.

Beware the women who protect the men they know are a danger.

There is a reason certain women didn't want Yhon touching them, even though he is supposedly a chiropractor and massage therapist ...

Let's be honest, we all know the type, sadly.

It is entirely insane to me that would even have to publish this, to be honest.

Though I also can't dismiss how the behavior is part of the capital-colonial pattern; they don't want strong non-white men existing outside of the structures that they can control.

And when it looks like one might get out ... they have to do everything in their power to entrap you ... including what I've been put through; lies based on the likely behavior of others.

As I said elsewhere, I'm no one's sin-eater; that's not my job.

I was raised in an "Evangelical" household, and the woman who raised me is incredibly suspect; that's all I'm really going to say about that for now.

Save to say that I had a lot of mixed signals about sex growing up; and that caused a lot of confusion — which can only be expected.

That's also why I took time to untangle my confusion in isolation, rather than plague the world with my disarray; see how that works?

I was live-streaming on Facebook too many nights to be that suspicious ... I never went out; and I have two friends with whom I've talked with nearly two to three times per week for the past 10-12+ years. I tell them everything ... every woman I've ever been remotely interested in, and there have been a few; but I'm not chasing after every woman I see, I have better things to do than pursue, much less chase, anyone.

i.e. DigiSnaxx, which I just updated/fixed 😸

Because on that spiritual side, I always felt close to my child; physically they took me from her, but spiritually they could not separate my love from her. It was my job to then continue feeding the fire of that love; so eventually we could find our way to communicating again.

And that is my sacred job as a father; beyond money, beyond physical provisions, to make sure that my child knows that they are valued, that they have value, not for what they do, not for who they are ... but for the simple fact that they are; that is enough.

You provide that kind of love and confidence to a child, and they will make miracles look like common sense and a daily practice; so why wouldn't you give up everything to give that to your child?

I don't know ... I can't even imagine ... because here I am ... able to tell her I got another student.

Let her know that her life not only means something to someone, but that it inspires and helps someone to be the best person that they can be.

I was taken, and kept, from my mother – in many respects; the request was made, acknowledged and dismissed.

I was also taken and kept from my child.

The aspiration was for me to spiral into degenerate behavior, proof of deviation and so become guilty of my own exile from society and my child.

The other option was to believe what I was taught as a child, that Jesus loves me too; and Rudyard had something with that "If" poem of his.

That was the idea ... adopt a brown child into an almost-all-white environment; and if he doesn't comply with how we want him to be, we tell him that he's defective.

Fool-proof plan — we got this!

And here we are ... having fun yet?

Christ, and don't even get me started on why we're here!!!

I'm actually finally free from it; and am mostly just rambling at this point; trying to wrap up any dangling particles ... while cracking grammar jokes.

People like to think that I'm stupid somehow, because of my skin color ... it's been a trend; I didn't get tattoos on my face until my late-30's.

I'm not trying to say I'm smart, but ... I got this far, and there are a lot of people who really tried to make that as difficult as possible; precisely because they didn't want me to tell stories like the one above, I suspect.

So you couldn't hear perspectives like the one above.

I did have former students, she and her sister, 16 and 14; great kids, the older one visited my TikTok profile, she might have followed me, I don't remember; didn't pay attention ... not my concern, never was – I don't have TikTok on my phone.

Those things are not my interest, and when people try to say otherwise ... at this point, it is tantamount to attempted murder.

In my opinion ... like you need to have some actual proof, you can't be throwing these allegations around.

Which is where ... there were photos that my ex found on Yhon's phone; there are actual women who made certain decisions due to certain inferences, and real-stories, I suspect; I'm not going to name names, but evidence did exist, and I'm not trying to go in-depth.

Allegations like the ones made ruin people's lives.

I'm not going to take it lightly, or act like it is something that I should move on from without commenting.

This is my comment on that; everyone hiding behind phones and screens.

Say it to my face!

Because at day's end the behavior follows a trend of women in my life, trying to control me by whatever means necessary; trying to portray themselves as my better, my needed-care-taker.

Starting with the woman who bought me.

I was never to be their equal ... I always tried to think of them as such; until it became self-destructive to do so.

There were some difficult childhood experiences, which set my tone for what I wanted from a woman, and how to go about getting that early; along with lessons, that I am at least thankful to say, that I've been more diligent, than not, about learning.

Though, we're also in the time of mobs, pitchforks and witch hunts for scapegoats.

I'm thankful for what I've been allowed to have thus far in life; and if this is all that there is, again I am thankful; because I will not have my life spoken of as some feel comfortable doing so – throwing rocks from the shadows, manipulating others, and calling it maturity.

And that is what I have to say about that.

Anything else, please have the dignity to speak to me directly like a human being.

Because I will not have others speaking so, and think that they are smart for doing so.

This is what happens when those games are played.

~ Canin Carlos
🍃🙏🏾❤️✊🏾🔥