I can look to moments in my past distant and recent and say that was a thing. Shit technically the Marlboro burning in the ashtray next to me is a death wish.

I can’t say that I fear death, it causes questions like am I going to leave this planet without having lived my best life. Had yesterday gone differently that answer is apparent, but yesterday did not go differently.

Much to his chagrin I do believe in signs, and yesterday’s might just be stop putting your life on hold girl. You have less time than you used to and your story is still amazing but you are destined to be legend.

That feels easier said than done, but if 2019 has taught me nothing else it’s taught me that doing is possible, that I am stronger than the voices in my head say that I am, and change is not the end of the world.

A ‘struggle’ I’ve had is figuring out what I want to be when I grow up. I’ve been ‘sure’ so many times only to no longer be sure and on a different path. The current draw combines almost all of the history of the various career paths. I am less than certain on how to implement it. Today I am going to spend my free time focusing and meditating to bring that solve into my space.

I am gong to watch The Manadolorian first though, I got a thing for baby Yoda.

What happened yesterday you ask? I was in the shower and there was a knock. I don’t pay that much attention to the people here in the house with me. I tend to be focused on my goals, my next, my future and the people here are not a big part of any of that. I’d heard a loud male voice in the hall prior to the knock and door rattle. I can recall thinking, here I am daily trying to be a good ‘neighbor’ and keeping my morning music routine to a minimum and it was just another reminder that the people in the house are different than me. With my room right next to the bathroom I know that time of morning can be a busy time for my floor. Between 630-8 the bathroom sees a fair amount of traffic. I assumed it was the boyfriend of the girl in the middle room. He at times will be in the shower at that time, headed out to work is my assumption. I assumed that he was pissed I got into the shower during a time he wanted to be there. I heard the doorknob rattle, I heard a male voice ask who was in the bathroom and ignored it.

I chose this place out of necessity and I’ve stayed to not allow myself to be ‘comfortable’. Momma would say its my suffering fetish, and perhaps in a way it is, but it is also a reminder to not get complacent. It’s also a place I can be anonymous. So yes, in a sense I am hiding here, and I am taking yesterday’s lesson as a reason to not hide anymore. I’ve stepped up and allowed other aspects of me to shine, its now time this part of me shine as well.

As I continued to shower, the knocks and voices kept coming. Now I was getting annoyed. Eventually I said “what”. The male voice on the other side said “police”. I chuckled at the audacity and kept washing my ass. The voice told me to come out of the shower and open the door. The soap kept flowing. In real time we are only talking about a matter of about 2 minutes. I don’t dawdle in the shower, and I was already on my lower half when the knocking started. I am sure to the man on the other side of that door it felt longer, but we are talking about perhaps 2 minutes.

As soon as I turned off the water he repeated for me to open the door and said he was the sheriff. I said “right, what’s your badge number”. In that moment I think my brain understood that it was not the boyfriend, but had not yet registered it was possibly the police. My brain went to the house was being robbed. I mean where I live its not impossible. One of the local guys sold drugs, he was just evicted. I mean I’ve never had the experience of a home invasion but I know they happen. I went from annoyed to prepared to rumble. I was on higher alert than normal I mean there I am butt naked and dripping and I only had a small knife in there with me. Yes, I shower with a knife. I don’t ever forget where I am, and that I am a woman.

His response was “sherrif’s department open the door ma’am”. My response was “right, sheriffs have badge numbers what is your badge number”. I was stalling. I was getting my knife, I was positioning the bleach spray I use to clean the tub in a place I could use to take out his eyes. I was listening to see if there was more than 1. I didn’t hear other male voices at that time in the hall, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. I was ready to rumble.

He rattled off some 4 digit number and I asked for his rank. Still stalling still preparing.

On my side of the door I was as ready as I was going to be. A lot of things run through your head when you think you’re going to have to fight for your life. I remember telling myself that I was going to see my son again, this was not how this ends. I remember choosing to not towel off. Sure they heard the shower, but the time I was in there prepping would give them the impression I was putting a towel on, a wet me is harder to grab. A naked me is not going to be expected. An aggressive me gives me even odds, those odds aren’t great but better than a semi-clueless me coming out the shower not knowing there are intruders in the house. I could take out his eyes, I could stab for the neck if he wasn’t that much taller than me. Most men are under 6 feet if he was under I could get to the neck easily, if he was alone that bought me time to get the 3 feet to my room and prep better. If he grabbed me I could likely still make it to my room. #PhillyvsEverybody You’re average thief won’t know the counters I know, won’t expect my response, won’t understand I can take a punch and yes I fucking punch back.

I opened the door wide, again something I hoped they would not expect. One more off balance moment for them which might give me the chance to live. What I got on the other side of that door was something that I could not fight.

I was inches away from an AR-15 held by a huge Black man in tactical gear saying SHERIFF in yellow lettering and smiling.

There is little scarier on this planet for a Black woman in America than being at the mercy of a police officer with their finger on the trigger of their pulled gun.

I mean in theory I can be like Tupac, take 5 Glock shots and live to tell the story. I don’t want to think about the statistical odds of that happening on the other side of an AR-15. He lowered his weapon and advised me to get my towel. I complied. He told me to stay in the bathroom. I complied. I could hear the other male voices then, surprising to me because my heartbeat seemed so fucking loud. I took a moment to wrap my robe around me sit on the toilet seat and remind myself to breathe.

They were searching for someone. Turns out that person didn’t live here, but they were given this address to execute the murder warrant. The rest of the house was assembled downstairs. I could hear the voices. My brain went back to my time in PPD and risk. I remember thinking that deputy was fairly trusting, he had no idea who I was and leaving me alone in a room he had not secured was pretty fucking stupid. He allowed me to go into my room. I remember thinking that was pretty fucking stupid as well. I took the opportunity though. I kept my door open and proceeded to continue my morning routine as if there weren’t 7 LEOs in the house searching for a murder suspect. I got my coffee cup and went back into the bathroom to wash it. I set up my coffee pot. I started brewing and got my work clothes and started dressing. They were on the 3rd floor now. There are 2 units up there one rented by a guy who works nights at a local hospital and the other was the newly empty. They could not get into the newly empty and a different deputy appeared. He asked me to come out the room and deputy point the gun at me said no she can stay there she is fine.

My hood senses immediately started to tingle. The coffee kept brewing. My thoughts went from these officers aren’t terribly smart to what is my life going to look like here now. If the whole rest of the house is downstairs in the living room and I am left upstairs what will they think? I know what I would think. I would think that the person who was treated special was the cause of the early morning visit. That can be dangerous. The coffee still brewed. Deputy who wanted me to go downstairs ask if the room was occupied. I said I don’t know. They eventually got the empty open. They went downstairs to talk to the rest of the house. I could hear conversation, they were explaining finally their reason for being there and who they were looking for. I could hear the house asking questions. I wanted to be down there to tell them, the housemates to shut the fuck up. You don’t talk to the police ever.

The deputies left shortly after, I knew they left because as I was sitting at my desk sipping the coffee which had finally finished they were all coming back up the steps. With my door open they could all mostly see me sitting here sipping. I closed the door. I took a deep breath and then went back to the morning routine. I had to log into work in an hour after all.

Over the past couple weeks as August 4 and I have gotten closer I’ve put off the job search and the house search. If he and I are going to work it’s going to mean I leave here for the West Coast. It seemed foolish to focus on building a life here only to have to abdicate it. In the past couple years I’ve gone from the shelter, to Manheim St, to Pottstown, to the Summer House, to here. I am tired of moving. I am ready to put down roots.

I have to rethink that now. Not the putting down roots, but investing in Baltimore only to abandon it for Vallejo.

It means a conversation with August 4 I was not ready to have, but me being ready has never stopped a fucking thing from happening. It’s only impaired my ability to adapt. I adapt in 2019 and beyond so this will happen as well.

In the meantime, I have to focus on some things. I’m going to leave you now to go do that.

Aphrodite Brown