Phucked Up Philosophy: A Black Thought

By Neimyiah Cornelis Jones

Don’t open this book unless you’re ready for a potent uncut reality from the perspective of an unbiased source, the victim.

This book is designed to answer the questions or give insight into the ways some of us had to think from the inside from a survival standpoint and for those on the outside that have the questions of where this type of thinking came from so they can understand what the problem really is while providing therapy for both sides as well as a potential solution for all. This is a platform for understanding the forced reality—that’s the fact that it takes a village to tend to this properly. So I’m taking this fight head-on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662448317

Book preview

The Orator’s Opening

I rise one this day to humble myself before you in hopes of introducing the reality of the world we live in as it is, instead of the watered-down perception that’s been force-fed to us throughout a painstaking history of fighting oppression, mental slavery, and a learning process through our schooling systems, mosques, churches, and some of our community leaders that mislead a naive people into unfavorable circumstances. Systemic oppression! During these writings, you will see several words multiple times for me to drive in my message properly. Three of them are key to our survival as people: knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.

These writings are not meant for you to remember the happy times. They are not meant to be distributed among people that circulate the very hate that has been keeping us as a people in bondage. These writings are a truth that came to me by way of rigorous studying, along with actually being put in these situations by myself as well as by way of others.

There was a period when my truth wasn’t the truth! So the others led me down a path that was detrimental to my growth, so I was naive also. I was blessed, though! I was taught how to understand. I was spoon-fed knowledge by a brother I hold dear to my heart because he had the patience to groom me, knowing it would be a battle because I was wild, uncultivated, and raw.

He saw that my comprehension level and the way I carried myself were years ahead of the age he thought I was. So he put extra effort into helping me make that transition from young man to man. This was easy for me but could’ve been a very negative situation if what he opened up telling me about myself would’ve come from anyone else. His first words to me were If you get mad at what I want to tell you, it’ll keep me from ever wanting to develop a relationship with you again. This rubbed me the wrong way right away because something like this could be a situation that had a hidden message behind it, so I was standoffish, but the urge to not back down to a mental challenge kept me curious. I talked to a few people to see if this individual had blemishes on his character, and he came back clean, and a good word came with it that opened my eyes for the first time.

This is where I knew (I) had to be a better person, man, teacher, pillar. I found out that this man had a mission. I found out that this man had a reason. I found out that this man could’ve chosen anybody to mentor, but he chose me.

I was twenty-five years old, being vigorously taught by an eighteen-year-old man. And I say that with the utmost respect because the man was so intelligent it was inspiring to me. I honestly used to go find words and great people in our history to challenge his intellectual prowess and was intrigued that he would not only know the answer, but the root word or definition, the origin of the word; or if it was a person, he knew the details of what this person did, represented, accomplished, and would recite it fluently. My eyes were opened to symbolism, communism, socialism, optimism, fascism, and all the other isms that could mold, create, damage, uplift, and even destroy our livelihood if we’re not careful with who’s doing our teaching, building, and orating in our households and communities.

I would like to introduce you to the Black Thoughts of Neimyiah!

These are called Black Thoughts because they are written from a dark place when I see or hear about heart-wrenching things that a blind eye is turned to or not spoken on and handled accordingly by our elected or selected group of people that we put our trust in to say and do the right things when and while adversity is in our realms. So I speak on it! I give my thoughts on it. And it comes from that dark place that used to get me into trouble. I learned that I have a gift that most people don’t come across. My friend (the young man), my mentor, showed me that people really listen to what I’m saying and that I need to be utilizing that gift. Whether they agree with it or not is left up to how much and how deep they are into their studies on the topics I present.

By no means am I putting my hopes into reaching everybody because that’s not being realistic. But the people I do reach will be the ones that see what I’ve seen and been where I’ve been but didn’t have the ability to put their feelings or experience into words, so I do it for them. I do it for us.

I’m speaking for the blind, deaf, and dumb. I’m speaking for the ones that know the truth but don’t have the courage to speak up and say what needs to be said. I’m speaking for those that need a foundation to build their own dreams on top of. I’m speaking for those who have the ear of the masses and can translate my emotions and Black Thoughts into their own words and can go more in-depth on whatever topic I may lack the full perception or understanding of.

All I ask of any of the readers of these pages is to take it at face value. There is no hidden message. There is no I think he means this or that. What I say in any of my writings is exactly what I mean. Sometimes it may be the harshest way of saying it, but just know that it was done intentionally and for the specific reason of me wanting you to know that it should be remembered. It should be thought about. It should draw a reaction from you that creates action and response.

I want my thoughts to be able to change your life in one way or another. I want my writings to change the way you operate with, as well as around other people, for the betterment of yourself, your community, your family, your organization, and the world.

Race does not play a role in these writings. So whatever ethnicity you belong to, when you’re reading, imagine my writings being lessons taught to your people by you. So where I say black, you use what you see fit. These issues are at the forefront of our conscience, but this story is mine, and these lessons were mine. These results are the ones I came up with from my experiences, and I encourage you to branch off my Black Thoughts and speak on yours. Teach people by using your stories, your trials, and your tribulations. By the time you’re done with Phucked-Up Philosophy, you should be filled with ideas. You should be willing and ready to combat my ideology or move with it and help us prosper. Either way, a reaction toward doing something better for us all is what I strive to receive from you because I owe it to our Creator to use the tools he’s put in my journey to try to create a perfect people—a people that puts love first, a people that knows that we need each other to prosper correctly so they know that loyalty means more than royalty, where we can accept people’s truth because we understand that their walk in life might be the same fight but on a completely different road at a completely different time because of a completely different reason.

Man Made is a thought I had while talking to an individual while incarcerated at an NLC institution. This person could openly express his reasons for his mood swings. His actions were cries for help that those of us that don’t know his struggle or reasons would see and immediately call him stupid, dumb, mental, or anything other than misunderstood.

I didn’t kick it with him, and on the surface, my mind said immediately, I don’t like him! But because of my teachings and my inheritance of dignity, along with the fact that I learned that I tend to attract these types of individuals, as a man, teacher, brother’s keeper, my heart made me ask him why he does the things he does and say the things he says. When he told me he was diagnosed with whatever the term is for lead poisoning and that these were the side effects, I immediately compared his actions and reactions to so many of my brothers and sisters I grew up with in the trenches of our ghettos that shared those symptoms (some not as severe, some worse) that I could never understand their reasoning behind.

We all take the easy definition, he or she crazy, or we blame his mother for not raising him right when that really had nothing to do with their situation because it was medical.

What did have something to do with it is the fact that his mother wasn’t able to take him back and forth to the hospital until she could find a doctor that could find out what’s wrong with her baby because a hospital bill can devastate her bank account if she even had an account.

Arsenic, lead poisoning, and metals in our surroundings cause this. The bad part is, these same chemicals were banned and supposed to had been regulated. But guess where it’s been found in 2021? In our baby food. That’s right. The food this young man and the food you’re buying off the shelf at stores that says it’s healthy for children sixteen weeks and older. We call it baby food. The question here is, If our foods have to be FDA regulated, how in the hell is it slipping into the food of our babies?

The bigger questions are, Why are these chemicals in our babies’ foods? Why isn’t it regulated and mandated that these chemicals not be used in areas where food is made, processed, packaged, especially baby food?

Is my philosophy phucked up on this? Or is this something that needs to be considered heavily and swiftly for the sake of our kids and for the sake of us parents when these seeds blossom into flowers and it’s time for them to nurture us?

Will they function properly enough to take care of us properly?

Is poverty a man-made disaster? I’m gonna give you a word that I think sums it up clearly in the ghettos to be the sole meaning: gentrification! I could give you the definition, but now it’s on you to do your part of the study if you don’t know. This word is why I preach that understanding is key to the way we seek knowledge and who it is that we put our trust in to guide us.

Man Made

Do people living in poverty have oppressors looking over their shoulders with the intention of making sure (you’re) they’re not doing enough to get out of poverty? Let me answer that for you! One trip to the hospital for lead poisoning could set a whole family (mother, father, two kids, and a dog) back about five to ten years in debt. Where we’re from, we all know that people living in poverty probably are not going to the hospital unless it’s damn near a life-or-death situation, not because the service is bad but because one trip to the hospital turns into four or five trips, and medical bills ain’t cheap. An ambulance ride can cost you the price of a new car off the lot.

An asthma attack can cost you the total price of the house you’re living in! Imagine having to pay that bill when you can’t even afford the light bill, when you have to choose between heat and gas because you can’t afford both. To add on top of that, the two kids are bad as hell, or should I say curious; so you know they gonna see that emergency room at least two or three times apiece, which brings us in poverty into phases 2 of how phucked up this disaster is gonna be. I personally got my ass whooped for coming into the house crying about hurting my arm or leg or busting my head trying to do a backflip on some mattresses we found and decided to have fun on so we could stay out of trouble.

Can you imagine that? You probably ask, Why a whooping? I asked the same thing, but I was one of three badass boys that Ms. Jones brought forth, and I remember till this day something that was said to me when I was a child that only makes sense now because I now understand. When I would come into the house crying, my mother would look at me and say with a sense of urgency, Boy, what in the hell yo badass running in this house crying about now? I’m genuinely hurt, so I’d show her my arm or leg or whatever’s in pain, and she’ll look at it and slap me across my head and say, Get yo badass out my face before I whoop yo ass and give you something to cry about, and don’t run back in here crying ’cause if it ain’t bleeding, it don’t hurt!

Now let me show you the reason behind this type of attitude because that’s exactly what it is. When I ran into the house crying like my arm or leg was chopped off, immediately, my mother’s mindset shifted to tending to the needs of her baby first until she sees it’s just a bump or bruise. It was more of a sense of relief to hear or see that I didn’t have to take that ride to the emergency room because that costs a car or a house. So the slap across the head or the ass whooping followed to make sure that I didn’t go back out and actually break something. That’s the wrong reason to be whooping my ass if you ask me, but now as a man and as a father trying to survive that same struggle, I understand the toll and the trickle-down effect of the different ways poverty can stress you out and have you doing what you think is right at that particular time.

Do I think that moms would react the same way if they had an above-average-paying job, we had health insurance, and we weren’t already living at the bottom of the bucket? Absolutely not! We both were victims of man-made oppression. I say that because