Facebook Publication Date: 4/19/2022 11:04

More on this later.

My mother is dead.

But I am quite alive.

Time for changes; time for clear, uncompromising eyes.

Time, after fully a year and a half, to call a thing a thing.

I don’t have 10,000 followers, and I surely don’t have 700 friends.

I want, need, *and deserve* people who will walk with me reliably and with Hesed–and will allow me to do the same with them.

Time to tell the brutal truth.

There are some of you who have called me a ‘sociopathic narcissistic charlatan cult leader’ who are, incredibly, *still on my friends list, and followers list, and who are still in the stands at Lace on Race*.

There are scores more who were silent when they did.

They hurt still worse.

Dear Lord, why? Why would you even want to be in either of my spaces, either as a friend or follower, if you think so little of me or of my character, ethos, or praxis?

I neither need nor have 700 ‘friends’.

I neither need nor have 10,000 followers.

I need people willing to go the distance with me. Who are willing to hold and be held well.

Who know what reliability and faithfulness look like.

Who can, and, crucially, *who will* walk with me as a friend, mentor, mentee, spiritual sister, companion, compatriot, and co-conspirator.

Bobbye is dead.

I am not.

The rest of my life, for however long–30 years, 30 months, 3 weeks, or three days– will be in service to her teaching, example, and legacy.

That means acknowledging those of you in the stands of the coliseum as exactly who you have been as described above, and acting accordingly.

You all have no idea how much the last 15 months have affected me and scarred my soul.

No more.

If after this, and all the chaff is blown away, if all I have left as friends/followers are those who can fit into my 5-seater Santa Fe, so be it.

I can work with that.

Better than looking at lying numbers and silent spectators. And, of course, far better than looking up in the stands at those who have contempt and animus for me, my work and for the community I curated.

Bobbye is dead.

But she lives in me.

Time for truth.

The reset starts now.

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