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My Interactions with The Brotherhood

Vector illustration of a black pentagram icon in flat style.

Also Called The Dark Priesthood

For the past 2 years, until very recently, I was under the influence of a clandestine group who introduced themselves to me as The Brotherhood. I became aware later, that there were other people in this organization who never made it known to me that they were members. In my view of this group, I will also call them The Dark Priesthood.

I term them The Dark Priesthood because they typically use techniques of Dark Persuasion, akin to occult magic, to manipulate people they intend to mold, control and exploit. As far as I can tell, the people in this group are all Black people. We are our only problem.

Black Asia Magazine has been in existence for just over 5 years. As the creator and primary engine of this enterprise, I find myself at something of a crossroads at this moment. I have yet to lose my purpose. What has changed is the way I view the world, the issues that must be addressed and my role in plans that should rightly be executed.

Understanding what I have learned is of tremendous benefit to people in the present and future. So where will I begin? The problems that have been happening really started after the Black Lives Matter Rallies in Asia, in the summer of 2020. As my recollection informs me, there were strange occurrences I had noticed even before then.

I met Demarcus Brandon in a barbershop run by a young Gambian man named Ibrihma. There were only 2 or 3 barbershops in Taipei owned and operated by black men, meant to service black men. They were all smaller, informal establishments, run out or someone’s apartment. Ibrihma stood out in that he advertised and had some air of professionalism. The others didn’t and in general, you would only know where to get your haircut by word of mouth.

Demarcus was also waiting for a haircut at Ibrihma’s shop. My impression of him was that of a very quiet man. He was a thinker, very mature and well-traveled. In short, someone like me whom I’d like to hang out with. He had apparently been in the military for a number of years. We got to talking and agreed that we should meet up that-or the following?-evening at a bar-restaurant. By then, I had been in Taiwan for only a few weeks and knew absolutely no one in town.

I arrived at the restaurant at the time we had agreed. He texted me and said that his girlfriend had needed to use the bathroom and that they had stopped at a convenience store. They arrived almost 30 minutes later. It struck me as odd because the restaurant of course had a bathroom. In hindsight, I think he wanted me to drink a bit before they arrived.

As he sat down, I saw that he wasn’t quiet at all. He began talking a mile a minute. He was talking about Nas’ first album and the influence of a producer called Large Professor. Whatever comments I tried to interject, he cut me off. He wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. He was sitting opposite me. His girlfriend, who was sitting on my right was completely fixated on my face and my reactions in a way that was conspicuous. I wasn’t sure what they wanted.

In my dabblings with psychological manipulation, I have become familiar with one of the techniques Brandon was employing. Control the conversation! Do not let the subject speak. Steer the conversation and thereby, steer their thought process. He was running a routine on me but I could not gauge to what end. It crossed my mind, especially the way his girlfriend was fixated on me, that maybe they were swingers.

I would see Brandon 2 to 3 more times after that. To his credit, he actually fixed me up with a really great young woman. He invited me out 2 times after that. He knew I didn’t have a cellphone and he told me he would give me a phone when we met. Each time he forgot the phone but still wanted to hang out. I was reluctant to meet him those times because I could detect that there was something alarming which underlay his speech. I broke contact with Brandon because I couldn’t tell where he was going with that.

If I think back on it and remember everything in detail, the troubles began to arise around the time of the Black Lives Matter Rallies. They were all over Asia in the summer of 2020. You could see their prevalence in Korea, Japan, and even here in Taiwan. Communist countries like China would never allow such mass protests so I heard nothing coming out of there.

Smaller countries like Vietnam had these ‘Listening’ discussions. They had Saigon is Listening. There was even a Taipei is Listening. These were discussions about racial issues, especially issues and viewpoints surrounding Black people in these cities. It was complete horse shit!

I had just begun working with a woman from South Africa who was mixed by her own reconning. These people were formerly and formally known as Colored people who are famous for living around Capetown. She did excellent work and in general, I liked Tarryn.

I liked her ideas. I liked who she was as a resilient young woman and there was a sort of a little sister vibe I experienced in her presence. It was a bit uneasy between Tarryn and me. This was due to issues in her background and the fact that numerous people had admonished me not to hire her because she’s not Black and she didn’t identify as Black. Anyway, this is my platform.

Since we are Black Asia Magazine, it is our business to cover the Black Lives Matter rallies, all over Asia and capture all these thoughts and images as a moment in time. I got on Facebook and other SM apps and started working my contacts. I discovered that I am close friends with many of the people who were primary organizers for BLM in Asia. ‘Capture’ is exactly what we did. I pulled in the content and Tarryn organized it into a marketable, online-ready format. We created a look at the movement in Asia to rave reviews from many of our peers.

Besides images of the movement in these different countries, I wanted to hear firsthand from the organizers of the movement in panel discussion form. Any journalist worth his salt would have the same thing in mind. I messaged the organizers in Osaka, Seoul, Taipei, Tokyo and Hong Kong.

It wasn’t so easy to organize this panel discussion which was simply conducted over Zoom. First, there were scheduling conflicts, which is to be expected. Second, there was a problem with the message and statement. No one, from any individual group, was sure what to say and even if they were allowed to give a statement, even though they were part of BLM-well not really.

The organizers expressed to me that none of them were really a part of any official BLM chapter which only officially exist in the US and the UK. These groups are showing a sort of ‘solidarity’ for BLM and the people who have been victims of police brutality. In retrospect, this may have been a fact that BLM in Asia is embarrassed by and didn’t want to be leaked out. Some of the organizers declined to even speak on the panel.

From conducting interviews in Taipei, I had made a friend here named Kevante Grimes. I admired this man for certain things I was able to pick up on, in his character. He was also a part of BLM Taiwan that summer and was more than willing to give me a statement on his opinion of the movement. The head organizer here, Stefanie Davis, made an attempt to be very controlling and obnoxious regarding my interactions with KG. She declined to give her own, individual opinion.

When she knew that he was going to speak to me, she created a separate chat window for him and me to speak so she could monitor everything that was said. We ignored her and spoke elsewhere. She had no real power but she still wanted to dominate and for us to think she had power. If she was acting on her own behalf or someone else’s, I could not say.

We had the full discussion with Kina, Jane and Stefanie. They were the organizers in Osaka, Hong Kong and Taipei, respectively. Towards the end, these women made me aware of a fact that I had missed. All of the organizers were women. I investigated a bit further to ask if they knew why more Black men weren’t involved. They alluded to the idea of apathy or complacency. In their minds, Black men in Asia were too busy chasing Asia women to be involved with issues affecting Black people.

Afterwards, their statements deprived me of peace. I knew what she had said was a lie. I’d lived in Asia, at that time for nearly 15 years. I personally know Black men, in every city in Asia, who have been putting in work for Black people for 5 or 10 or 20 years in their individual locals. These men are tough as nails, smart, grassroots organizers and pioneers. How could the movement not be aware of these men? I decided to organize another panel discussion.

I simply called friends of mine who were doing things in Asia. I called Black men I knew in Seoul, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Manila, Saigon and Taipei. My 2 friends in Osaka and Tokyo were busy that afternoon. None of them, however gave me any run around about if they could speak and what they were allowed to say. These men are their own bosses so what and when they could say was entirely up to them. It was some of my best work. We had a rousing discussion regarding issues surrounding the movement.

The reaction was disconcerting. Black women on Facebook were infuriated, especially in Korea. They did not critique anything we said about the movement. They attacked these men personally. I even remember someone calling my friend Solomon retarded for how he talks. He has a pronounced Southern accent. Black men in Asia generally do not see racism here.

People here may have their attitudes but in general, people here are respectful and we are not barred from entering any of the avenues in society. The motivation of these women, as far as I could see, is that Asia is racist and needs to change to accommodate them. It was like watching Rome burn. Black men and Black women were at each other’s throats on Facebook. That’s just what I could see. On the bright side, this may be the first time these 2 groups have ever had a candid discussion.

I have heard it said, on countless occasions that black women are the only women on earth who will publicly disrespect their own men. That is a lie. No Black woman has ever disrespected her man, in public or otherwise. That is to say, I have never and will never see a Black woman disrespect a white man.

It was a few months before the rallies that I met Juanita Ingram. Apart from being heavily active in BLM in Taiwan, she was also instrumental in creating the discussion panel called Taipei is Listening. Juanita started our dialogue by reaching out to me through email. It was what you would expect. She mentioned that she had come across my website. She wanted to get a better understanding of what I was doing and see how she could help or work as a contributor. I thought this was great.

We emailed back and fourth a few times for a couple of weeks in an attempt to set up a meeting. We kept missing each other. Either she was busy and had to reschedule or I wasn’t available at that time. We finally did arrange to meet at The Diner, a famous American-style restaurant downtown in XinYi district. From the very first moment I set eyes on her, she started running a routine on me.

I do not recall her exact words. She said something to imply that it was my fault that it took so long for us to actually meet. It felt like she had poked me in the face with a pin. That means the comment shocked me. It was no one’s fault that we hadn’t met earlier. It’s just that we had different schedules. If I had accepted that idea, then that would have been the basis for our conversation that day. From her making that statement, our talk was meant to have the underlying tone that I had done something wrong.

Her body language was off putting and troubling during our meeting. Sometimes she had a authoritative posture. Sometimes she looked at me in a threatening way. Her vocal inflection ranged from kindly, to annoyed, to angry, to playful. Sometimes it matched what she was saying and sometimes not.

When she sat down to eat Juanita immediately began talking about some of the people in Taipei that we knew in common and in a rather disparaging way. She started talking about Carl and Patrick who owned a bar in Taichung.

She started talking about Stefanie and how disorganized Stef could be. In Stefanie’s defense, I had to say that I had not known Stef to be like that. I couldn’t defend Carl and Patrick because I didn’t get along with either of them.

And that’s exactly what was strange about the people she brought up. They were people with whom I had probably had some sort of dispute. Somehow, Juanita knew which buttons to push. Next she started telling me stories.

True to form, she was mostly controlling the conversation and barely let me get a word in. She told me a story from Taiwanese folklore. There was an incident in Taiwanese history, fictional or not, where some aboriginals were massacred because someone had approached one of the women of another tribe. The story is reminiscent of what happened to Emmett Till.

Next she went on for a few minutes about a racist incident to which her son was exposed. If I remember, some racist teacher back in The States had delayed his paperwork from being processed. Consequently, he could not get into Taipei American school and had to go to Taipei European school. The story would infuriate anybody but what was peculiar about it was why his parents allowed this to be done to their son.

When you tell someone stories in succession and each story is meant to draw out a particular emotional response, this technique is called chaining in the field of hypnosis. From the moment we met, Juanita was trying to put me under. So after I was in the desired emotional state, that state being anger or outrage, Juanita began to anchor me. Her anchor was pulling her hair behind her ear, a gesture which she repeated several times.

Each time she made this gesture, it felt like I was going to crack mentally. My head kept falling under its own weight. When I picked my head up, she would reapply her anchor. She almost had me so I interjected.

I looked at her and said, you’re obviously an expert in body language. I’m not sure how extensively you’ve studied Neuro-Linguistic Programming. She raised her eyebrows, she smirked, she tilted her head, she shrugged. It was as if to say, I’m not saying yes but I’m not denying it.

My assessment of Junaita Ingram was that she came to Taiwan with an agenda. The FBI didn’t hire Black people until Marcus Garvey started his movement. Part 1: Any Black person who is doing anything which pertains to Black people is supposed to be under her and recognize her as an authority figure. Part 2: seeds of distrust are to be sewn between different groups of Black people so we cannot inter-cooperate, independently.

Part 3: things said and done on anyone’s platform, be they social, or cultural or political, etc. are to be dictated and approved. Part 4: all the black organizations are full of shit; like black means anti-white. We ended our brunch and we really never spoke after that. Right after the rallies, I went up to the mountains in Hsinchu. In hindsight, it was pretty smooth the way Andre and Demarcus set me up.

I had hit a major milestone. Several people in a few different countries were writing and vlogging for BlackAsiaMagazine. I had gained notoriety. Black people in Asia knew who I was. I was becoming more popular on YT and was close to being able to monetize so I wouldn’t have to fund this entire operation out of my pocket. Using my teaching salary to pay for everything wasn’t exactly a problem because I was making so much as a teacher. It’s just not ideal.

I had quit my previous job with the intent of staying in Taipei and finding a new job as a teacher until my streams of revenue increased and I could leave teaching all together. Andre Yonder had called me a few months before, out of the blue. He called on Facebook and we spoke for over an hour. We talked about my site. We talked about my life in Taiwan and his life in Japan.

We talked shit about how we liked living out here in Asia and some of the crazy things that are regular occurrences in the lives of expats. It was like I was talking to my dad. He was from a similar background to mine and almost 20 years my senior. I have come to know that that’s my Achilles Heel. At this very moment, I could not tell you if my father loves me or hates me. Andre would call me from time to time and we would have conversations like that.

On one occasion, he called me and asked me to help a friend of his. She was a young African girl, living in Japan who was looking to come to Taiwan to teach. I began asking people I knew and posting on Facebook that a friend of mine was looking for employment in Taiwan. At that moment, Demarcus Brandon posted that his school in Hsinchu was looking to hire a teacher.

I called him and we discussed the possibility of getting this young woman in at his school. We agreed that it couldn’t happen because she was out of Taiwan and COVID had just started among other complications. I relayed the information to Andre. It occurred to me that since I was also looking for a position, I should ask Brandon if I could get in there. At that moment, I had forgot how treacherous he was.

In the blink of an eye, that was my reality. I had broken the brand new lease on my apartment in Taipei and gotten my deposit back. The landlord looked at me and he was afraid. He told me, something is very wrong here. I was in too much of a rush to heed his omen.

I moved up to Hsinchu and paid the deposit on an apartment that was about a mile’s walk from the school where I was to be working. At that time, at 38 years old. I taught myself to ride a bike. It’s a skill I never had before and it helped me get around in that small town.

I had 3 other co-workers up there in Hsinchu: John from Australia; Demarcus and Davion who was born in Jamaica but raised in the US somewhere. It was July of 2020. Classes were officially to begin after 2 weeks. For the 5 months I worked there, it was one episode of psychological warfare after another.

Demarcus owned Davion, outright, unbeknownst to Davion. Very subtly and shrewdly, Demarcus had infantilized Davion. Davion looked up to Demarcus like a mentor but he reacted to Demarcus the way a child would react to a parent. Demarcus controlled Davion’s cooking business. He told Davion exactly how he was to act when doing business around Taiwan.

Let me see if I can recall how the mind games began. Every morning we would have morning exercises with all the classes of all the kids in the kindergarten, in the school’s courtyard. Demarcus would start doing his little dance back and forth. He would say, ‘this is what we do out here. We Bloods! We Crips! This is it.’ something like that.

Next he started with the back-handed comments, the implications. It’s hard to remember exactly what was said but they were digs against me. The implication would be about my girlfriend who was from the Philippines or what kind of music I liked or my appearance. They were all insults meant to assail my ego.

When, in his perception, I was softened up enough, then the actual confrontation came. Marcus and I got into an argument of sorts. The aim was to subdue me mentally without me being aware of what had just taken place. The conversation went something like this:

M: Jay-Z made Kanye West who he is. Kanye West would never have had a career otherwise (of course I had to push back against that). He was baiting me.

W: What are you talking about? Kanye sounds totally different from Jay-Z on everything.

M: But what about when Elvis Presley was stealing songs from Black artists.

W: Ya, Elvis probably did do that but back to Jay-Z, even if he’s on the same track with Kanye, they sound nothing alike.

M: I know what you’re saying but, like for example when you work in Taiwan, these are some of the things you’ll have to put up with. When you come into these people’s culture, you have to adapt to what they say. You have no choice. You’ve just got to put up with their racism.

W: You might have to adapt a little bit, the rest is bull-shit. But back to Jay-Z, his message is totally different from Kanye’s. That’s why they are together on some of the same tracks.

To see these words in print, the conversation looks ridiculous. Actually, in that moment there was a lot of heated tension between he and I. Demarcus’ strategy was to drag me far away enough from the original argument with smaller, side arguments that I would forget what we were originally talking about. He could then go back to the first argument and win. He failed! Winning that argument would have created a perception of his dominance over me.

Since he couldn’t subjugate me directly, he opted to manipulate me indirectly, through Davion. Demarcus began setting up conversations where Davion and I could agree on things. One time, Davion and I both thought the birth rate for girl babies was higher than that of boys. He and I agreed on this. Marcus pulled up some obscure article which stated that the numbers started to favor girls in kindergarten where the mortality rate for boys is said to increase. Davion and I were both stunned.

Demarcus no longer spoke to me directly but he would leave me and Davion in the office to talk, about whatever. I noticed the shift. When Demarcus would come into the teacher’s office, he would look at Davion and then look at me and then look at Davion and then look at me. If his operation were to work, if he was forging a bond between myself and Davion, then our body language would start to sync up.

If I was to buy into the notion that Davion was my brother or my peer and Demarcus was above Davion then he was my superior as well. Solidifying that idea would be an easy next step. That didn’t work either. It just left me feeling insulted and even more disgusted by Demarcus. I was struggling with thoughts of hurting this guy.

Furthermore, I was starting to find Davion to be more revolting than Demarcus. Half the manipulations were coming from him. He was a participant in assailing me, not because I had done anything to him, but simply because he was a stooge.

Since we couldn’t be brothers, the new goal became to make us enemies. There was supposed to be some sort of perceived conflict between Davion and I and I was supposed to be in the wrong.

After trying to make us brothers, and failing at that, the tone in the office changed. Now Davion was riding my case at work. He would go on and on about how bad I was doing at work; how I kept making mistakes and how I was doing a terrible job as a teacher. Mind you, the only one saying this was him. The principal and manager had recently congratulated me on how I had adapted to the situation. Of course, he wouldn’t know this because they had spoken directly to me.

A couple of times, I had to tell Davion to drop the conversation all together. He was getting under my skin making up things that I had done wrong. The last time, he refused. He told me that he intended to keep harassing me until my performance improved. He said I was making him look bad. His words were intended to provoke me to violence.

Demarcus and Davion were the least of my worries. From when I’d first arrived, the principal and the manager at this school had decided that I was too arrogant and that my attitude towards teaching was too nonchalant and that they were going to break me of that attitude. Everyday, I was required to create lesson plans for each of my classes that would be reviewed by the manager, Crystal. At the end of each day, Crystal would tear me apart of my performance, in class, in different aspects.

The whole thing was just irritating. It went on for the first 3-4 months I was there. It stopped when Crystal deemed me to be a better, more attentive teacher. It took some shaping and molding to get me there, however. I never thought Crystal was a bad person. She was just doing the job she had been told to do which put us at odds.

Between having to restrain my temper with Demarcus and Davion and Crystal persecuting me everyday, I felt like I was in jail. This website had all but been put on hold and my buzz all over Asia had grown cold. The song lyrics I know have always given me solace. I kept singing to myself a particular line I remember from The LOX. “No more pussy and money, just some crackers and a couple coward niggas that will look at you funny.” That’s exactly where my life was at that moment.

Demarcus’ very last machination, was trying to convince me that my co-teacher, Tiffany was trying to get me fired. That she kept talking about me behind my back, only to him of course. Where he was going with that, I could not tell you. Crystal and I had developed a friendly kind shorthand. At the end, there were too many problems between the principal and myself and I was getting no help with the discipline cases in my classes.

I quit at the end of February. Davion became loaded with all my bad classes which he more than deserved. It was while I was in Hsinchu that I met Roya Arlisa Cartledge. She is a God sent! Her work and her help have been invaluable.

A week after I returned to Taipei, the first week in May, Taiwan went into lockdown for 3 months. I trailed along like a wounded train, taking interviews and producing and marketing content as I could. I had landed a job the day before the lock down started by some miracle, so I had money for myself and to pay the people who were helping me. As anyone will tell you, being on lock down is a miserable condition.

About a month into the madness of lock down, I got a message from Kendal. I cannot remember Kendal’s last name. I came to Taiwan from Japan, at the end of 2016. Kendal had been a good friend of mine when I lived in Tokyo. By my own account, Kendal saved my life.

When I lived in Japan, I was in a horrible space mentally. I was stumbling around a party, drunk one night. Due to my behavior, the bouncers wanted to waste me. They caused a big scene in the party. They crowded around me and took up a posture to get ready to seriously injure me. A security guard in Japan is likely to have military training. Kendal stood between me and these men and shielded me from getting my ass kicked. We had only met that evening.

Kendal was very charismatic and very talented in different areas. He was a popular guy with everyone in the city. There were few people in town who didn’t know him and speak highly of him. He was a good friend to me when I lived in Japan. Although I am a few years his senior, he acted as an older brother to me. He was probably the only person on earth that I looked up to and who could win my allegiance.

He messaged me on Line. He asked me if I was still in Japan. Of course I wasn’t. I was surprised he didn’t know that. We caught up for a moment. He was now married to the girl I’d met, whom he was dating when I lived in Tokyo. He had a son and a daughter on the way. Then, it happened. Kendal told me that he was a part of a secret organization called The Brotherhood. He wanted to introduce this organization to me and ultimately wanted me to join.

He sent me a book called As a Man Thinketh. It’s actually about 100 years old. It’s easy enough to get anywhere. It deals with how our thoughts shape reality. The next piece of literature was one that he said he wrote. I didn’t believe him due to the nature of the literature. It had different symbols in it, like pentagrams inscribed by circles. The booklet dealt with the nature of the universe and how the universe came into being in terms of particle physics; how smaller particles gave rise to elements which gave rise to life.

It was the same as the song by Rakim Allah, Who is God. He told me that he was learning computer coding. He was learning Enochian language. He was learning investment. These were all the things he wanted to share with me. He asked me where I wanted to live in the future. After I chose where I was going to live, The Brotherhood would hook me up. He wanted to fly me out to Japan to get ‘initiated,’ whatever that entailed. He even wanted to hook up my bank account. At some point it would be my turn to bring another initiate into The Brotherhood.

With all this, his final question was, How was I going to get The Brotherhood’s message out there? ‘What was The Brotherhood’s message?’, I wanted to know. We had several conversations over the course of several nights. These conversations always occurred late at night. That’s the time when one is more prone to make rash decisions.

Our dialogues had an underscore of emptiness to them. Something was there but being left unsaid. He was waiting for something. It was like he had laid out the goods and he was waiting for me to partake of them. His aim was to create desire in me. He could then use that desire as a leash or a chain to keep under some sort of control. It was imperative that the impetus come from me.

He started showing me profiles of some famous and renown people who were a part of his ‘group of invisible knights.’ At the end of the day, the question isn’t if I had values similar to this group that he claimed was there. If we truly practice the same values, then our purposes would coincide anyway. So the things he was doing were in vane. Kendal was waiting for an agreement; for permission for him to enter my life with the things he claimed were gifts.

I remained hesitant. Why me? Who else is in this organization. What do you do? What exactly is your message? It is not lost on me that if your message differs drastically from my message then I would have to forsake the latter. I am compelled to abandon my messages, possibly on pain of death, depending on what the initiation requires. Kendal offered me wealth, power and sex and it was all hollow. Not to mention, those are things I can secure on my own.

Kendal actually impersonated a female. He told me to download Discord. It’s supposed to be a more secure server. On Discord, Kendal introduced me to a young Norwegian woman. Let’s call her Holly. She was 28 years old and, from her picture, she was quite attractive. I introduced myself as a friend of Kendal’s. She told me that she knew Kendal from when they were kids in school. That was highly unlikely since she was Norwegian and he’s from Chicago.

She(He) gave me a piece of literature she had written. This piece talked about different forms of energy and it had a triangle inscribed by a circle. I read it. I asked her why her writing style was exactly the same as Kendal’s. She(He) sent a laugh emoji.

She(He) dismissed my question by saying it was because she and Kendal had gone to the same school. Apparently they were talking about a Masonic school. On Line app, Kendal sent me a message implying that I should try to bag Holly. She’s just my speed. She’d make a great love interest. I continued asking Holly questions about the work she was doing. The more questions I asked, the less she(he) was responsive until she(he) ghosted on Discord.

When I wanted to know what projects The Brotherhood was endeavoring to build, Kendal sent me pictures from a bar he owned that was under construction. He also showed me a Montessori kindergarten that he had built for his daughter. He didn’t answer my question, any of them.

The conversation ended on notes of disappointment, frustration and shame. Kendal let me down. This man whom I had known as someone noble had become a desperate charlatan with no integrity. For my part, half of me was sickened by what he had done and what he was doing. Another part of me, my ego, was flattered and laughing my ass off.

You see, after all that time, I could tell something was wrong. Since the time of the BLM rallies, I could sense that there were people there who weren’t supposed to be there. I was being followed online and there were people in my life whose actions were out of order. These people, in their organizations brought to bear, all their resources, scant as they were, because of 1 guy from Queens who blogs on his laptop sometimes.

So, in that, I let my ego get the better of me. What the moment required of me was to ask my brother directly, what the problem was. I know this is about my writing. This will go a lot more smoothly if you give me the basic respect of being transparent with me. That doesn’t excuse him.

As per our conversations, they took place under the assumption that because I am a Black man, then I am someone’s property and I am not allowed to have a voice without the proper permission. Our talks were a mere formality to appease my rebelliousness.

I never addressed the elephant in the room. I failed Kendal. The last thing he told me was, we’ve decided to put you on a probationary hold of sorts. We’ll be watching you. The Brotherhood are not this all powerful group. They are a Masonic organization made up of fairly young men, centered around the Facebook groups, Black Men in Japan and Black Men in Vietnam.

So first they tried to manipulate me. Then they tried to buy me. After those things didn’t work, they attempted to use violence.

I needed a real job so I could pump more money into producing content for blackasiamagazine. I had the choice of working at a regular, shitty cram school in Taipei or, I could take another offer on a small island off the coast of Taiwan called Penghu. The salary was great and the work load was very light so I decided to go there.

As I was making arrangements to land this job, I was contacted my an African-American actor in Taiwan named Dooley. If I remember, he reached out to me because he had seen one of our recent posts. I had never spoken to him before and I would never speak to him after.

We talked for quite a while. He told me he wanted to start an association called The Black Business Exchange. He went on, at length about the problems that Black people were facing in Asia and how he wanted to do something to address these problems. I had no reason not to take his words at face value.

Later, I told my barber Max about the Exchange and invited him to come. I also told Mandisa. Mandisa is part of a click of party and club promoters in Taiwan called The Firm. Because of the way she carries herself as a woman, I have a great deal of respect for Mandisa. I knew her input would be most relevant. She said she would be busy that evening but she also related something very peculiar to me. She said there was to be another meeting, with the same topic but just women, a few nights after.

Just before the Exchange meeting, I stopped by Max’s shop to get a fresh cut. I always used to announce myself before I went there to make sure he was in and working. Max is from Gambia and a lot of Gambians in Taipei hang out at his shop. When I arrived, there was another Gambian sitting in the room. When he saw me, he started smirking, almost uncontrollably. It was like he knew something I didn’t know.

When I sat down in the barber’s chair, Max shouted, what time is the meeting. He said it for the entire room to hear even though I was right next to him in his chair. The Exchange meeting was at a vegan restaurant owned by a former American basketball player in Taiwan named Quincy.

At the restaurant one of the guys there was a very tall Gambian guy who also plays basketball in Taiwan. He looked at me and smiled, a sneaky, condescending little smile. I don’t think he and I had ever interacted before. Dooley wasn’t there but the usual people you’d expect to be there, like Stefanie and Davion among others, were there. After everyone had filed in and was seated Quincy passed around a notepad for us all to write down our contact information.

We were seated in a semi-circle. When I looked behind me, to my left, there was a very tall Taiwanese man sitting there and from the vantage point where he could watch the whole room. He did not speak and he did not add his contact to the notepad.

Nothing came from that meeting. We left there with no business plan or any other kind of plan on the table. We went to Supreme’s barber shop which was downstairs and got drunk and went to a nightclub, in town to get more drunk at a place not owned by us.

We ended up at a nightclub called 1001 Nights. It’s the hottest club in Taipei. The tall Taiwanese guy sat down next to me. He introduced himself. I’m Mars, he said. I’m the god of war. I was a little bit saucy by this time so I do not recall exactly what he said. He didn’t exactly threaten me but he threatened me. How would he even know to do that? My impression of Mars is that he is an intelligence officer who has had military training who is also a student of body language.

The next time I was to go to Quincy’s place was about a week later. I wanted to pay him back for a round of drinks he had bought at the club. He wasn’t there so I went to the barbershop/bar downstairs to have a beer. As I was sitting in the barber’s chair, having a beer, Supreme’s girlfriend came over to me and started flirting with me. She started twirling her hair in her finders and giggling in my face. She started talking about New York and how she wanted to visit there some day. Someone must have told her I’m from New York.

When I started responding to her questions about New York, I could see that she was a little confused. Someone had given this little floozy a crash course in body language and how to entice men. I wasn’t reacting the way she expected me to. I got up and walked over to the bar and she followed me, giggling all the way. She stood really close to me. Her hand was an inch away from my hand. Her ass was an inch away from my zipper.

Again, there was the temptation which I thought was shockingly hilarious. I wanted to go over and ask Supreme why his girl kept touching me. They were sure I would take the bait. After all, I’m just a nigger and what more would I want.

If you dangle a woman’s panties in front of me, I would naturally lose all self control and leave myself vulnerable. The most disturbing part is that these are other Black men who perceive me to be this way. Since Quincy obviously wasn’t going to show up, I just went home. A few days later, I started my new job in Penghu.

After I settled into my new apartment in Penghu, Andre called me. From the first time he called, it seemed like he was advertising. He was talking about all the fights he had been in growing up and how he had martial arts training. In his calls now, he wanted to know where I went, if I was OK and what was happening with me. How did he know I had gone somewhere?

His calls became more and more frequent and his questions became more and more invasive. Andre was never my friend. From the first time he reached out to me, he was my handler. Now here is how their plan was supposed to execute. Supreme’s girlfriend had been assigned to me. She was supposed to flirt with me and get me to flirt back with her and in the midst of all this Supreme who is at least 3 times my size was supposed to come over and whip my ass.

The main point is, this Black community is now launching, especially with new businesses. I was to be humiliated and outcast. The reason being, that I tried to fuck Supreme’s girl and I got what I deserved.

All of them knew about this and that’s the only reason Dooley invited me to Quincy’s restaurant in the first place. He set me up. From there, my main man Andre was supposed get in touch with me, coincidentally at just the right time. he was to find out what was going on and to come to Taiwan.

After he got here, he was to act as my bodyguard. He was to help me get revenge. He was to get in on the ground floor of whatever organization I might build out here. The person right next to me was supposed to be one of them and I was supposed to be unaware of it until it was too late. This is what Kendal meant when he said, we’ll be watching you.

After I left Taipei and after I woke the fuck up, I have since broken ties with everyone who was unnecessary in my life. Unfortunately, that’s how it’s supposed to be. I am happy to say that I’m growing again. Also, over the past few months, I’ve gotten all sorts of stupid messages and phone calls.

It’s like, any Black person I ever hung out with in Taipei has been solicited to contact me and milk me for whatever information they can obtain. They all want too know where I am and what I’m doing and all of them are surreptitiously lurking around to see if they can be my new handler.

I got a call from Greg out of the blue last month. Greg is a Black American man who used to by my neighbor in Taipei. Greg is the whitest Black man on earth. I remember the way he referred to our neighbors once, a Black family who had just moved to our area. “I’m not being racist but are these kids like extra dark?” Shot like that escapes his lips. I used to see Greg in the supermarket and he would tell me how hen pecked he was and how his wife used to give him an allowance each month. He first messaged me to tell me that he knew someone who wanted to invest in my site or make a donation. He wanted to have a voice call that weekend.

When I called him at the designated time, he refused to open his camera. He talked for over an hour. He said nothing about any donor or investor. He impressed upon me that he was doing something for Black people (because that’s what floats Wes’ boat, right?)

He said he was creating a newsletter for Black people. Only he didn’t know what it was going to be about. He didn’t know which Black people would be his target demographic. He was almost ready to put up the website but he wasn’t sure which topics he should address. He wasn’t sure if it would be sponsored by him or some company that he worked for or both or what.

He went on briefly about how he used to work for the CIA and the things they used to do to intimidate and gain leverage against people they deemed to be terrorists. There was no website. He threw up a simple webpage later with a few lines about Kentanji Brown Jackson on it. The hope was that I would put my efforts into this enterprise because I need money and then these people, whoever they are, would have control of my enterprise. I have never been so ashamed of being Black in my entire life.

It’s not just Greg. There have been several others who have approached me the say way over the past few months. People with whom I was good friends. I can’t imagine what they were promised.

I remember a TV show that used to come on when we were children called Alien Nation. It was about an alien slave ship that crash landed in the Mojave desert. There was no one on that slave ship except for them. A core group of these aliens were breeding and torturing and selling their own people.

I remember Martin Luther King and Malcolm X both saying that our people were slaves for 400 years. The people who were slaves for 400 years were the Israelites in the Bible. That’s just a story. Chattel slavery as an institution in America lasted for about 80 years. It appeared as though these men were in disagreement but they were actually 2 branches of the same tree. That’s why the same lie was coming from both their lips. It was a kind of controlled opposition.

What I have come to know is that Black people get exploited all over the world because Black leadership offers us up to be exploited. Our leadership, on every level is bought and paid for. Everyone is reading from a script. So many brilliant, young, well-intentioned Black people join Black organizations. They spend the next several years of their lives chasing their tales. In their later years, they either become corrupt overseers themselves or they fall into complacency. Some people strike out on their own.

Their age and their under developed skill set renders them incapable of affecting any impactful change. Tragically, some of these people have sworn their lives to their former organizations. They get killed if they attempt to leave or sincerely fight for the common good.

So at this juncture, it occurs to me that these people are so invested in me and so afraid of me because I’ve been exposed to them and they’re worried I may tell what I know. So why don’t I just tell what I know. Lastly, these groups are not above throwing demons at those they mean to control. I have had a few sleepless night. I have found that listening to the Solfeggio Frequencies, especially frequency 528 hz, offers some protection from that kind of negative energy. Let me find out that Harry Potter shit is true. If it is true, then I submit this as the first treatise (that I know of) on Defense Against Dark Magic.

What do you think?

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