Dear MAGA West
Dear M.A.G.A West,
And just like that, it’s over. We’ve reached a point in our relationship where it’s unhealthy for us to be together, at this point it’s downright toxic. I cannot justify to self, or anyone else, as to how I could ever give you anymore time, energy, or have the unmitigated gall to spend money on you. No, no, no. it’s not you, it’s me. I’ve kept you in this box, where cultural competence, empathy, and self-awareness reign supreme. Unbeknownst to me, you’d partake on this journey of self-actualization, which is beginning to look more like self-unrealization. No, Ye, I can’t tell you the last straw, not just yet. As a therapist, I always advise that it’s important to start with love before getting to the crux of the issue.
We’d start out out as college sweethearts in 2004, well you’d already dropped out, but there were only a select few on campus recognizing the depths of your creative genius, unique backpacker style, and daring desire to be different. I couldn’t show you off to the world just yet, so I kept you hidden between Get Rich or Die Tryin and The Black Album. I didn’t desire to be different, not yet, but then you dropped Jesus Walks, and just like that I got all the head nods and handshakes as everyone began to acknowledge what I already knew, that you were special. You didn’t let the fame get to your head, as you maintained that humble, yet cocky awkwardness that drew me to you.
The next year together, we’d take trips to Sierra Leone and New Orleans, where I learned so much about who you were outside of the rapper/producer genius. Watching the catastrophe that was the handling of Katrina, and hearing you say “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” made my black family love you because we saw your humanity, your courage. We felt we could touch the sky.
The next five years would see a significant progress in our relationship. There were graduations, heartbreaks, and dark twisted fantasies. Maybe, this is where it all went wrong. Maybe I was so caught up in my happiness and personal/professional progression a that I missed the flashing lights indicating you were crying out for help, using creative exploration as the conduit of said pain. With the passing of your mother, I should’ve been more supportive and recognized that you were highly susceptible to experiencing mental wellness issues. Maybe, I knew your ability to be resilient was high, based off your response to historical trauma, and didn’t do enough. You didn’t need kudos, you needed empathy, and most importantly, mental health resources.
Enter “Yeezus”. I couldn’t abandon you, no matter how confused I was about where you were in your life. You’d give a new sound, accompanied by a new mindset, where materialism was the focus, no coincidence you’d later marry a woman who appears to puts the “material” in “materialism”. We all noticed the change in your persona, so we sent Sway to get the answers, but even his expert interviewing abilities could’t garner them, and according to you, he didn’t have the answers either. It started to become painstakingly obvious that this relationship, which was such a source of pride, that saw so many highs over years, was coming to an abrupt end. It became more and more difficult to stretch my hand, as I couldn’t embrace your behavior. There were no more parties in LA, just you taking trips to towers by yourself.
See, I’m becoming enraged thinking about that trip you took to see your future president, which put the proverbial nail in the coffin of whatever bit of love and adoration remained. You’d follow it up by wearing MAGA hats, going on public rants about slavery being a choice, lacking awareness as to the reminders of deep-rooted trauma his message evoked. Your direct affiliation was a slap in the face to those within the community who championed you. There are those who blame your mental health, to which I can empathize. You’ve indicated you’ve been off your medication for a long time now; however, I charge you to think about how your current approach to your mental health, and ask is this helping you be the best you. In a stable state, would you admit that homicidal ideations expressed in your art is healthy? I wonder if you’re even capable of that type of analysis, to even hold yourself accountable.
Self-care means being aware of the people, places, and things that negatively impact your wellness. In the interest of self-care, I have to say goodbye. Again, it’s not you, it’s me. I love myself way more than I love you, and refuse to subject myself to watching you self-destruct. I hope you find those beautiful thoughts and moments, which are usually in the darkest.
With Love,
The “Melanin Enriched” Community.
