An urgent message to the non-melanated community – and anyone willing to listen before it’s too late.

In the 1996 movie Jerry Maguire, Tom Cruise famously pleaded, “Help me, help you.” That moment wasn’t just cinematic – it was truth trying to break through pride.

Today, I’m offering the same plea. Not as a performance. Not for pity. But as a warning.

Help me, help you.

Because the signs aren’t just flashing anymore. They’re screaming.

Selective Amnesia Won’t Save You

The pressure is rising. Tensions are boiling. And still, too many people cling to selective amnesia, as if forgetting absolves responsibility. As if history doesn’t leave scars. As if soul-deep inequality hasn’t infected every system we live in.

How long can this go on before it collapses under its own denial?

I’ve tried to bring light. To stay consistent. To offer humanity in the face of inhumanity. But for that, I’m seen as a threat. A problem. A pariah. Not because I’ve caused harm – but because I name it.

Stockholm Syndrome in Broad Daylight

Meanwhile, too many of my own people are still under hypnosis, claiming love for a country that, beyond exploiting our labor and culture, rarely shows us any in return. It’s not patriotism – it’s survival coping. Stockholm Syndrome dressed as loyalty.

And it hurts my soul that so many within the Black community do white supremacy’s job for them – tearing down our own people in public for white approval and clicks.

But rarely do they talk about the conditions that created that destruction. The lack. The trauma. The design.

Not that I give Black folks a pass for self-destruction – but I’m human enough to understand where that self–hatred comes from. It was fed to us. Recycled through generations.

How often have we been allowed to see positive images of Black culture beyond entertainment or sports? Rarely. And yet, we’re expected to love ourselves in a world that only loves what it can extract from us.

Strangely, some are quicker to defend the system that breaks us than the people trying to wake us up.

Some of the loudest defenders of white supremacist shenanigans look just like us.

Modern Tools, Same Old Playbook

From plantation beatings to public executions, from news anchors vilifying to cops brutalizing – it’s the same playbook. Only the tools have changed.

And while the system claims to be fighting crime, let’s tell the truth:

It allows it – when it’s contained in Black communities.

You hear endless noise about gangs, but what’s rarely said is this: the percentage of Black people involved in gang activity is tiny – less than 1% – 0.5%, according to the National Gang Center (NGC) and FBI data. And yet, somehow, their existence defines entire neighborhoods. Entire cities.

But the deeper betrayal? Law enforcement knows exactly who these gang members are; which means the mayors know, and the governors and so on down to the shady prosecutors who act outside of public scrutiny… They know where they operate. They track them. Watch them. Occasionally arrest them. But rarely convict them.

Why?

Because chaos inside the community serves a purpose. It keeps people distracted. Disempowered. Hopeless. Most importantly, it keeps the pressure off those truly responsible for the conditions.

Now ask yourself:

Would that same chaos be tolerated in a predominantly white, wealthy suburb? Never. Not even for a weekend. Because safety there is a priority. In Black neighborhoods, it’s a performance.

This Generation Isn‘t Waiting

The younger generation sees all of this. They’re not blind. They’ve grown up with cameras in their faces, algorithms feeding them injustice in real time. They don’t wait for Sunday sermons or election cycles to feel something is wrong. They know it. And many aren’t interested in waiting for change that never comes.

They weren’t raised to be patient – they were raised to respond. To act. To expect results now.

So when you continue to dangle justice like a maybe, when you rub privilege in the faces of the starving and desperate, when you parade cruelty under the banner of “law and order,” you’re lightning a fuse.

And when it blows, don’t ask what happened.

A Warning, Not a Threat

People love horror movies until they become the character in one.

They cheer on the chaos until they have to run from their own reflection.

But this isn’t fiction. This isn’t entertainment.

This is a warning.

And I’m still here – offering the gift of awareness before the mirror breaks.

Help me help you.

Before it’s too late.

It’s appreciated if you add a like, subscribe, and share this post with others. Then join the conversation, don’t be afraid. There’s plenty more where this came from, so check out some previous conversations.

Keep scrolling down for more of the conversation