[Image description: screenshot of the Instagram profile page of {Nha Nomi} https://www.instagram.com/killing.georgina/.]

I’ve joined the ranks of amazing writers like nayyirah.waheed using #poetsofinstagram, #spilledink, #blackpoets and numerous other hashtags of which I am quickly becoming acquainted. I have even created my own #eggshellfreepoetry and #killinggeorgina.

I am posting image versions of my shorter poetic pieces along side reposts to amplify other artists, writers and marginalized voices.


Join me @killing.georgina and follow the hashtags:

#eggshellfreepoetry, #blackpoets, #blackpoetry, #blackart, #poetsofinstagram, #spilledink, #wordporn, #blm, #blacklivesmatter, #unapologeticallyblack, #blackwomen, #personalispolitical



Killing Georgina is creating poetry and prose to heal and achieve metaphysical liberation.


See more by subscribing to Patreon.com/KillingGeorgina


Gratitude is good, gratuity is better. If you appreciate the content, the emotional labor, the value added by holding space for and amplifying the lives and experiences of women and femmes of color, hit me up here.




#BuyfromBlackWomen #SupportBlackArt


See more by subscribing to Patreon.com/KillingGeorgina

Gratitude is good, gratuity is better. If you appreciate the content, the emotional labor, the value added by holding space for and amplifying the lives and experiences of women and femmes of color, hit me up here.

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So, I said what I said. #MeToo. Meaning, I too have been sexually harassed and assaulted in my lifetime. Meaning, I too have been harassed in the workplace, namely by white men, in my lifetime. Meaning, I too have been assaulted by a white man or two in my lifetime. Depends what I want to count and what I want to forget. By saying #metoo, I did not say what, where, how or who because I don’t think it is any of your business. I am not here to be your trauma porn. I am not here to expose all my vulnerabilities on demand. I said what I said and I stand with all victims and survivors of traumas that come in all forms.

But lest you forget, I am first and foremost a black woman though, so fuck Rose McGowan and her peak white feminism and fuck #womenboycottTwitter because as Rosa Clemente said last week when it started (paraphrasing) this is peak white privilege to surrender use of a major platform because of your hurt feelings and sensibilities while Black and Indigenous people are using every avenue we have available to us to stop the bleeding. People are dying in Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Island, protests continue in St. Louis, people are dying in Somalia, black lives still don’t matter, indigenous people are still colonized and oppressed.

So no, I won’t boycott Twitter or FB to stand with white women that historically and currently have not stood with me. Instead, I will spend my time using whatever platform I am given to help support, donate, amplify others causes and needs and raise my voice in protest. Because silence is violence and white women continue to wield the power of that violence to bend people and structures to protect and uphold whyte feminism. Whyte feminism is white supremacy. Take your pink pussy hats and shove em…


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View story at Medium.com

Self Care: Sing Until the Burning Stops

Originally posted on Patreon.com/KillingGeorgina on August 14, 2017

photo via Playstation.com

Not much personal writing has been happening on my end. Scheduling, agendas, emails, notes, to do lists, social media blurbs; that’s about all I have been able to tap out these days. I’m organizing a sister march to the March 4 Racial Justice in DC on 09/30/17 to happen here in the capital city of little Rhody. This requires amounts of socializing that are draining me to my limits. In a way, I think organizing suits me. I can put my all into planning and executing in a deeply focused strategic way as long as there is a clear end goal in sight. Small signposts of tasks completed that may help to push the larger goal of liberation from white supremacy. This march is one of the sign posts. I’m pushing through and we are going to make it happen in solidarity in RI and DC and NY and NJ and OK and wherever else…not sure of all the sister city/states participating yet. This morning, I felt like putting down some thoughts, all stream-of-consciousness-like.

My house is a mess and my kids are watching WAY TOO MUCH TV! But it’s summertime so *shrugs in melanin*. I do make sure Big is reading and Little is STILL potty training. But housework is down to the bare necessities as the moment, which means living amongst clutter and more dust than is probably healthy. Summer is hard already since we have to recreate a routine for our days that don’t revolve around school drop off and pick up. Mommy gets to switch hats and play cruise director for two instead of chauffeur and household manager. Interwoven between my meeting needs and endless conference calls, I am bringing the kids to parks and playgrounds and splash pads and pools and other fun summer stuff. Needless to say, both Big and Little are a little out of sorts from being dragged around to meetings or dropped off at my parents’ so I can go alone. They seem less bothered by staying home with daddy for nighttime meetings, except for the one time that Little stood at the door and cried. For the most part, their bedtime route is maintained on those nights and they only miss mommy a bit. Daddy/Hubby has been amazing and supportive and loving.

I am tapped out and in need of self care that I can’t afford. So instead I have decided my refuge will be to sing on the top of my lungs as long and as often as I possibly can to clear my throat chakras (whatever those are). I even got the husband to drag out the old Wii American Idol Karaoke game so I can sing my heart out to “canned” applause and “I’m feelin’ you dawg” responses from animatronic Randy. Singing helps to shake free all the hurt and anger and fear and sadness that sits in the back of my throat burning like a fireball. Plus, singing is $FREE.99 and I don’t need to make an appointment or carve out time to do it. I just try to restrain myself in more public places than the inside of my moving car. Maybe I’ll even sing today while I do some much needed vacuuming and dusting around my house between answering emails and instant messages, posting updates and calls to action on FB and Twitter for M4RJ, M4RJRI, RO, KG (and my own page and other groups I admin), meals and other necessities for the kids and hubby, plan and organize and delegate and outreach and learn and grow and drink enough water.

photo via playstation.com

I’m vacillating between Joe Crocker’s version of With a Little Help From My Friends and Adele power ballads playing in my head…”lending me your ear. I’ll try not to sing out of key.” I can be “a little pitchy dawg”…again, more *shrugs in melanin*. But I digress.

Fuck Nazis. Fuck white supremacists. Fuck apathy. Fuck complacency. If the devil is going to take me out, I will not be easily erased. I will go out fighting and singing on the top of my lungs. Both resistance and self care all wrapped up into one solitary action. I’ve been known to make anything into a song with my children. This may end up being my new hook since it keeps running through my head:

“It is our duty to fight for our freedom.

It is our duty to win.

We must love each other and support each other.

We have nothing to lose but our chains.” — Assata Shakur


Gratitude is good, gratuity is better. If you appreciate the content, the emotional labor, the value added by holding space for and amplifying the lives and experiences of women and femmes of color, hit me up here.

Follow me on Facebook, where I am escaping the sunken place and amplifying my teachers here.


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Things I no longer worry about…

Bigstock/Anthony Correia

What gift do I need

To give you for you to see me

What dance can I do?

What game should I play?

What invention can I make?

What profound thing can I say?

What accomplishment is enough,

to be seen and valued?

Tell me the combination

So I can do my best multiplied by

your best and his best and his…

Mediocrity! But it is ok and enough to be the highest of the land

Because it’s “gentleman’s C’s”

if you look like that man.

I need the code

The secret to visibility and representation.

Is it respectability?

If I do all the things and go all the places you deem acceptable,

Take on all the things you value

will you accept me? Value me? Respect me?

That is a tightrope to walk,

A thin line, a small box.

I hope I don’t fall.

I hope I can fold myself into myself and make me small,

If I fail, if I fall

I know, now, you won’t catch me,

as me

warts and all.

Gratitude is good, gratuity is better

Escaping the sunken place and amplifying my teachers here