Following the departure of his superstar teammate, Russell Westbrook was left to lead the Oklahoma City Thunder all by himself. That’s when something special happened.
“This is the lesson of Russell Westbrook. In a deeply imperfect world — a world where a shooting touch will suddenly abandon you at the worst possible moment, where your teammates might not be good enough to make a win possible, where an economy might suddenly collapse for no apparent reason, where the decency of strangers cannot be presumed — in a world like that, Westbrook’s approach to life might actually be the most rational one. You control the things you can control (family, daily routines, the occasional big choice) and outside that you fling yourself with wild abandon, every day, at every object that seems worthy of pursuit. In the absence of guarantees, in the absence of certainty, in the new American volatility, we can bank on only one thing: total presence, total sincerity, total effort, all the time. That is the sound of one hand clapping.
Westbrook’s critics have been very loud for many years. They are quieter today, but they’re still out there, disputing the magnitude of his triple-doubles by pointing to his high turnover rate and his low shooting percentage, his inefficiencies, his mistakes. But, as Billy Donovan, the Thunder’s head coach, told me, this is missing the point. “Before you go to the criticism,” Donovan said, “you have to understand Russell Westbrook. The No. 1 thing for him is how hard he competes. It starts there. That doesn’t mean he plays a perfect game, doesn’t mean that he never turns the ball over, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t miss a defensive assignment. But when the ball is loose on the glass or on the floor, when it requires energy and passion and fire — Russell is bringing that. So many players live with regret: They could have done a little bit more, been more committed, worked harder. I think he’s going to have a great level of peace when his time is done. He’s going to be able to move on with his life. He’s going to have peace in his heart.”
When you live in the Bay, you’re surrounded by waves.Â
That’s how I used to navigate the City. I always knew where North was because I knew which way West was -- whichever direction the beach was.Â
In no way is Ocean Beach an exemplary California beach. It’s gray all the time. It’s a true shoobie beach, not because it’s full of tourists that don’t know any better, but if you’re daring enough sift through the sand with bare feet, you might catch broken glass; Or worst case scenario (but just as plausible) a dope needle.Â
Gray is the uniform of the City. From the waves to the fog, right down to my middle school uniforms and my baggy gray sweatpants. But lately, gray has been an overarching theme for everything.Â
I heard somewhere that when you start thinking of how something began that’s when you know it’s going to end. That notion was usually applied to relationships -- when your mind starts backtracking, looking for signs of when things start to go awry, sewing it all together to figure out the narrative of what was mendable and what was truly broken. Â
Sometimes you’re looking for who to blame. Other times you’re just trying to figure out the starting point so you can make it right.Â
It’s been nearly two or three years since I wrote something genuine on this tumblr. When I was in college, it wasn’t atypical for me to come home and run my drunken fingers over my laptop. “Write drunk, edit sober” might as well have been tattooed on my forehead, but it was those spells that gave me confidence in what I had to say meant something, regardless of any fact-checking or copy-editing. And maybe that’s where the flaws start. But at least I had the wherewithal to open my mouth in the first place.Â
Back then I was calm, I was collected (I won’t say I was cool, but I would think some level of confidence and self-awareness equates to “cool” in one way or another, so I’ll just run with that).Â
I think about the writing I was doing in college, and from a technical standpoint, it was shoddy work because, of course, I was still learning. But with any craft, there needs to be an air of ballsiness. Without it you’re just another sheep trying to fake a funk that you probably never had in the first place. An understanding of technique and rules build a structure and foundation, but in order to “break through” you can’t set yourself in stone. There’s no such thing as whimsy if you’re coloring within the lines.Â
In the three years since I left college, I’ve lost that. I couldn’t even start this blog off correctly because I was concerned about a lede, structure, anecdotes, word diction. I’ve had so much to say the last few weeks, but couldn’t find the words to express it. I self-edit my thoughts before they’re made whole and extinguish them before even getting a chance to spark.Â
Lately it’s been a constant struggle to differentiate between the high points and low points. There’s clashes of wanting to be be grateful while also being hungry for more; There’s the constant throb of imposter syndrome: You’re never going to be good enough.Â
I used to pride myself in not caring about what others thought of me. I was always about “doing my own thing”. But that mentality can be damning. Sometimes I rehearse conversations I’m going to have later on in that day. Most of the time, I just expect to be quiet and hope I can fade into the background. Unexpected social interactions make me shut down: I’m not ready for this, what am I going to say, what if I do something stupid, what are they going to think of me. The idea of social interaction is nauseating and stifling. I’ve been placing unnecessary distance where there shouldn’t be, and yet I’m constantly setting aside my needs for others’ as a distraction.Â
There are moments where my chest is too constricted and jittery at the same time to even fathom the tasks I need to get done. I’ve done a fantastic job at alienating myself, become masterful at putting on a clear face when really, sometimes I just want to hide away forever.Â
I want to say it’s all par for the course, but I believe I’ve come to a point within my self-awareness and realization to finally acknowledge it for what it truly is. My lack of self-confidence in thought, heart and mind has begun to manifest into anxiety and vast insecurities. A thought can’t cross my mind without it ending with, “That’s stupid” and believe myself to be foolish. There’s a never-ending self-review and I live my life on a point system.
One day it’s tepid and the next, the feelings are on high. My existence is all shades of gray, hues darkening and brightening on a day-to-day basis. Today wasn’t so bad. But who is to say what tomorrow will be like?
Call it a cry for attention, call it a cry for help.
I tried to drink it away
I tried to put one in the air
I tried to dance it away
I tried to change it with my hair
I ran my credit card bill up
Thought a new dress would make it better
I tried to work it away
But that just made me even sadder
I tried to keep myself busy
I ran around in circles
Think I made myself dizzy
I slept it away, I sexed it away
I read it away, away
Well it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds
Yeah, it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds
I tried to run it away
Thought then my head be feeling clearer
I traveled 70 states
Thought moving round make me feel better
I tried to let go my lover
Thought if I was alone then maybe I could recover
To write it away or cry it away
Don't you cry baby
But it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds
Yeah, it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal...
Jesse Williams speaks for us all and says what many of us have felt for a long time.
“Peace peace. Thank you, Debra. Thank you, BET. Thank you Nate Parker, Harry and Debbie Allen for participating in that [video].
Before we get into it, I just want to say I brought my parents out tonight. I just want to thank them for being here, for teaching me to focus on comprehension over career, and that they make sure I learn what the schools were afraid to teach us. And also thank my amazing wife for changing my life.
Now, this award - this is not for me. This is for the real organizers all over the country - the activists, the civil rights attorneys, the struggling parents, the families, the teachers, the students that are realizing that a system built to divide and impoverish and destroy us cannot stand if we do.
It's kind of basic mathematics - the more we learn about who we are and how we got here, the more we will mobilize.
Now, this is also in particular for the black women in particular who have spent their lifetimes dedicated to nurturing everyone before themselves. We can and will do better for you.
Now, what we've been doing is looking at the data and we know that police somehow manage to deescalate, disarm and not kill white people everyday. So what's going to happen is we are going to have equal rights and justice in our own country or we will restructure their function and ours.
Now... I got more y'all - yesterday would have been young Tamir Rice's 14th birthday so I don't want to hear anymore about how far we've come when paid public servants can pull a drive-by on 12 year old playing alone in the park in broad daylight, killing him on television and then going home to make a sandwich. Tell Rekia Boyd how it's so much better than it is to live in 2012 than it is to live in 1612 or 1712. Tell that to Eric Garner. Tell that to Sandra Bland. Tell that to Dorian Hunt.
Now the thing is, though, all of us in here getting money - that alone isn't gonna stop this. Alright, now dedicating our lives, dedicating our lives to getting money just to give it right back for someone's brand on our body when we spent centuries praying with brands on our bodies, and now we pray to get paid for brands on our bodies.
There has been no war that we have not fought and died on the front lines of. There has been no job we haven't done. There is no tax they haven't leveed against us - and we've paid all of them. But freedom is somehow always conditional here. "You're free," they keep telling us. But she would have been alive if she hadn't acted so... free.
Now, freedom is always coming in the hereafter, but you know what, though, the hereafter is a hustle. We want it now.
And let's get a couple things straight, just a little sidenote - the burden of the brutalized is not to comfort the bystander. That's not our job, alright - stop with all that. If you have a critique for the resistance, for our resistance, then you better have an established record of critique of our oppression. If you have no interest, if you have no interest in equal rights for black people then do not make suggestions to those who do. Sit down.
We've been floating this country on credit for centuries, yo, and we're done watching and waiting while this invention called whiteness uses and abuses us, burying black people out of sight and out of mind while extracting our culture, our dollars, our entertainment like oil - black gold, ghettoizing and demeaning our creations then stealing them, gentrifying our genius and then trying us on like costumes before discarding our bodies like rinds of strange fruit. The thing is though... the thing is that just because we're magic doesn't mean we're not real.
Thank you.
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