Writer. Comedian. Husband. Father.

Self Care

I’ve been putting off writing this for a while, but the theme of mortality has truly been weighing heavily on my soul.

Last month two of our family friends died on consecutive days. They both died of natural causes: heart attack and cancer respectively. Both husbands, both remarkable Black men whose lives ended before they reached 40.

In the same month my father entered and exited the hospital for the fourth time this summer. My brother and cousin both had baby girls a week apart from one another. On one particular day, my brother, father and son were all in the hospital.

I was deeply depressed, frustrated about not being in control, struggling with work, relationships, money, and etc. I noticed that I was having trouble completing thoughts, generally unmotivated and indecisive. I’d get 8-10 hours of sleep a night and wake up exhausted. Plus, I hadn’t touched my dick in weeks (that’s when I knew something was very very wrong).

My therapist recommend some tactical strategies to combat my depression. Specifically, he asked me to record my thoughts and feelings; assessing, tracking and labeling any cognitive distortions. This helped tremendously.

Usually I track my thoughts and feelings through my comedy. Writing jokes, getting on stage, and living out loud in front of a crowd is very validating. But you still have to live a life outside of your creative outlets.

Talking with my wife one morning I broke down in tears, chest heaving, sobbing uncontrollably while she held me like Issa in Molly’s arms on that dirty ass outside couch. I felt like a straight bitch, but damn those tears felt good. Something about crying rebooted my system, afterwards my clarity was restored.

Health and wellness, and my idea of what makes a man were in great conflict with one another. I had a willingness to grin and bear it all in spite of clear indicators that shit was asunder. I’d convinced myself to keep going, when the reality was I needed to take a seat.

I began to reach out to my close friends and family members, meeting over a drink or a meal and catching up on our lives. I chose to spend nights at home with my family, engage in simple activities with my kids. Enjoyed some edibles, did booty dances in the living room and cuddled up in front of a Disney movie.

Just doing basic shit helped me to continue to be extraordinary. That and $1K month on marriage counseling and personal therapy services. Plus a weekly session with my personal trainer.

Self-care is critically important. It’s way more important to thrive than to simply survive. Do whatever is necessary to stay fully engaged.

For me that meant, seeking out licensed trained cognitive behavioral therapists, avoiding videos and articles of viral police-shootings/beatings/lynchings, spending time with friends and family, forgiving trespasses, being above anything petty (this has proven a daily struggle), having fuller deeper conversations with my wife, smiling at pictures of newborn babies, laughing at videos of baby goats, crying like a bitch and eating some amazing edibles.

Live your whole life, full of life. None of us know how much time we have.


Let’s Discuss

I think I get it now. Black people think all white people are racist, because whites don’t mind white supremacy as it doesn’t impact them personally. White people think they’re not racist, because they qualify racism as lynching and slavery (the shit they’re great aunts/uncles, and grandparents did). The KKK white people know now, are the dudes their uncle bowls with on Thursdays, or the nice lady at church who says “inappropriate” things at the bake sale. Help me out on this whites… I’m fairly certain what black folks think on this one.

Unofficial Character Analysis of #InsecureHBO Cast

Unofficial Character Analysis of #InsecureHBO cast:

Molly: We seriously are all rooting for you. ALL. OF. US. Go on that trip to Morocco by yourself. Have fun. Check in with your therapist via phone. Go find you an Arab brother like Rihanna did. Grow all the way up, then write a self-help book on how to get your melanated life. Do a guest episode on Kelli’s podcast about self-care.

Daniel: BRUH… Issa is not nice at all. Stop. Saving. Her. Go record that R&B Album. Let Issa Dee be your muse, it could be Joe meets The Weekend and make you an international icon for bearded men who just want to love these heaux.

Kelli: Why don’t more people listen to you? You are literally getting your life, and checking people on their bullshit in every scene. How’s your podcast going? G’head and get a talk-show – everyone will watch.

Chad: Never met a nigga more on brand for narcissism. You literally are engaged and we’ve never seen your fiancé. What drives you beyond impressing your boys who ain’t even got they shit together – or is that it in a nutshell? You probably still in the DMs of whoever broke your heart in 8th grade. You a funny MF though.

Issa: (sigh) Why, Issa? You broke, tired, ‘bout to lose your job and your hotation found you right back at Daniel’s place with nut residue probably still on your blouse. Go home, visit your parents and recharge for a bit. You are literally just going through the motions, still fucked up over Lawrence. Meanwhile your man – that you said you wanted back – is literally in tears waiting for you at the apartment you almost burned down. Get your man, go to relationship counseling, learn how to express your wants and needs, get some skills on negotiation and compromise.

Lawrence: Nigga. You want your girl back so bad you waited in the empty apartment just to tell her you sorry she cheated on you. Three (four?) different women cursed you TF out about your fuckboi ways, and all Issa wanted you to do was to step up. How many different women have to give you the same message for you to work on your shit and grow? You can’t just be a tall, good-looking negro with no redeemable qualities beyond a college education. BTW, have you met Dro’s wife Candace – she cute as hell.

Tiffany: Sister, why are you so pressed to shame everyone around you? Marriage is hard, focus on the work of the relationship. Then, perhaps, you could help your girls find their way offering nuggets of wisdom beyond “I love giving head.”

Derek: Nigga, you so confused. You had bars for Lawrence at the bar, but now on some fuck shit you’re telling your mans to pee on Aparna’s leg. Meanwhile, Aparna’s been trying to level up Lawrence since day one. I get it, son, you got a baby on the way and you’re trying to figure out how you can possibly be a father when you not even grown yourself. Go home and have some real conversations with Tiffany about how pretentious y’all are for no reason.

Candace: You too cute for this shit. The only thing open about your marriage is how openly disrespectful your husband is about this shit. Book a trip to another country, get your groove back, and never come back.

Dro: I hate you. We all hate you. So, why are you on the show? Because we hate you. That’s how TV works. You so hateable we can’t look away.

Y’all Don’t Know

Y’all don’t know what parents go through on a daily basis. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to raise a child from birth, guide their maturation and send them out in the world. Y’all don’t know the terror that grips you when your child falls. Y’all don’t know how quick your breath catches when they choke on their food. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have your whole life invested in their safety. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to scrutinize everyone they come in contact with: teachers, doctors, coaches, bus drivers, tutors, sitters, friends, family, and loved ones. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to be driving, see another child walking alone down the street and crane your neck to find their parent. Y’all don’t know what it’s like for the arrival of your child’s bus to be delayed 5 minutes and why it feels like 5 days in torment. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have to spend the night with your child in a hospital bed. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to lie to your child telling them “it’s OK” when they ask to play at their friends house, perilously outside of your vision. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have representatives draft and pass legislation to eliminate your child from consideration. Y’all don’t know what it like to watch the news and hear that someone’s child was abducted, drowned, beaten, shot, attacked, raped, molested, murdered, their body found stuffed or discarded as if it wasn’t worth the world and know that you can’t protect your child from the world outside the four walls of your home. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to see your child’s school’s number displayed on your phone and send your heart-rate through the roof. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have to pick up the phone and just hope. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have to take a lap around the building just to calm your nerves after simply being reminded about back-to-school night. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to hear someone say they hate kids having never loved one. Y’all don’t know what it’s like wishing you could live forever just to be sure there’s someone to love, nourish, and protect your child. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to have someone masquerade as your child’s friends, and earn their trust only to get close enough to wound them…or worse. Y’all don’t know.

I just wish y’all knew. #JusticeForKennekaJenkins


Aldi is GOAT

Had to suspend all my bourgeois sensibilities to shop at Aldi’s today. Paying a deposit for a shopping cart, watching the clerk throw my items back into the cart haphazardly, and then bagging my own groceries was an adjustment to state the least. But, the total came up to $42 for a basket full of food, and then she threw in a $10 off coupon…

I’m a changed man…forever. Does Aldi’s use prison labor? Someone has to be oppressed for these prices…


It’s never cool when an unarmed Black gorilla gets shot and killed. Let’s remember, however, Harambee was clearly the aggressor, a huge, Black, hulking brute, who was staring at that 4 y/o child with the most intense aggressive face. One can only imagine the aggravated grunting sounds he was making as he was bulking up, dragging a woman’s defenseless baby through that moat.

I don’t know how many shots it took to take him down, but I’m glad that toddler is alive. I’m also thrilled my baby wasn’t in that situation – ‘cuz I’m a petty parent. My child wouldn’t have heard the end of that incident throughout his life.

Let my son oversleep, whom is only still breathing because of a sniper shot to a gorilla’s temple, when he needs to get his ass up and get to school. I’d be like “You better get yo’ monkey ass out that bed before I drag you out that MF like that gorilla back in ’16…” Or, “You ain’t cut the grass?! You better leap your little ass over that fence into that yard like you did back in ’16 when you wanted a close-up of that gorilla!” Worse yet, “What you mean you don’t want bananas in your pancakes? I bet Harambee’s ass wanted some bananas before your silly ass fell into his cage…”

I’m sorry, y’all… I’m petty AF. #PettyPendergrass #PettyLevels#PettyAndWoke