Yes, There Are Missing Girls In Washington D.C

0325-missing-girls-metro-pd-2-1200x630If you’re on social media, you may have seen an article doing the rounds with the title: “WHERE IS THE MEDIA?: At Least 25 Black Teen Girls Are Missing In D.C Since Feb 1st!”

Is it true? Not exactly… but it’s not far off. Yes, there are missing girls in Washington D.C but behind the headlines there’s more than meets the eye.

First of all, let’s take a minute to remember that the media is an evil distraction factory and a poor substitute for the police. We should not be outraged about ‘where the media is’ because the media is not a government department and does not find missing children, it merely reports skewed facts about missing children and feeds off public hysteria.

What we need to look at is the Washington DC Police Department. Now, a big reason for the sudden interest in missing black children is that this year the Washington Metropolitan Police Department started publishing missing person notices on their Twitter feed. Because of this people have more awareness of these missing person cases, which is a good thing, but people don’t seem to realize these are normal levels of missing person cases. This is not the Twilight Zone, these are just average stats for any major U.S city. Also because of the demographics of Washington DC, which has a majority black population, it’s likely to have more missing black people than other races.

Worldwide, an average of 85,000 people are missing at any given time (NamUs 2016), around 50% are typically white adult males with black people making up 37% globally and minors 40% (USA Today 2014). Around 12,000 people are currently missing in the U.S (NamUS 2016).

Back over in Washington DC, so far this year the Metropolitan Police Dept have logged 774 missing people cases (501 juveniles and 273 adults), of which only 38 currently remain unresolved. On the other hand, the Washington PD solved 736 missing person cases in the last 3 months alone, and 479 missing minors were found. It’s so easy to focus on the negatives and forget all the hard work the Washington police department puts into protecting its community.

As you might imagine, the figures for missing people change frequently as citizens are found or others go missing. The good news is the stats represent a steady drop in missing person cases since 2015 and the Washington PD reports only 9 remaining unresolved cases between 2012-2016, so the vast majority of people who go missing each year in the state are found.

Most young people who are reported missing are runaways and turn up soon after being reported, with very few cases remaining unsolved. However, many social media users worry that missing black girls will be trafficked. Unfortunately, there are no official figures on human trafficking in the US because cases are rarely reported or known, but no doubt young girls and particularly girls of ethnic minorities are more at risk of being trafficked or prostituted and further at risk of violence because of socio-economic factors which affect girls and people of color in the US.

“Our frustration is, we deal with a very desensitized public,” says Robert Lowry of The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. “The natural inclination is that the child’s behavioral problem is why they’ve left.” But sometimes these children are running away from “abuse or neglect or sexual abuse in the home”.

Of the 38 people missing in D.C, 22 are minors and 18 of them are listed as ‘critically 1490360160673missing’: “A critically missing child is one who is at an elevated risk of danger… A child’s age or mental/physical condition can be factors in determining whether a child is deemed to be critically missing” (NCMEC 2016).

“What the community is alarmed about,” says DC City Councilmember Trayon White, “[is] we had a 10-year-old girl missing the other day, but there was no amber alert.” White feels this was due to the child being black, although the strict guidelines of when a child can be considered to qualify for an amber alert may have affected the level of support received in this case. “AMBER plans require law enforcement to confirm an abduction prior to issuing an alert” (Office of Justice Programs 2017).

All in all, the conversation about missing children and the treatment of ethnic minorities is an important one and never unwarranted. “We applaud the conversation and we applaud the attention that this issue is being given” (Robert Lowry, NCMEC). It also appears that, with the current climate of anti-police sentiments and racial tension, police departments in the US have a long way to go in terms of building and maintaining public trust.

Forgiveness is a Noun not a Verb

Look, I’m like the least forgiving person on Earth. I don’t do “forgiveness”. But it seems to be really popular these days, I keep coming across this bizarre concept all over the internet when I’m looking for advice on revenge. But there’s something a lot of these “forgiving” people are getting wrong…

My advice to the forgive and forgetters is: if you truly you wanna be all forgiving… that’s fine – but you gotta take note: forgiveness is a noun not a verb. What I mean is that forgiveness is a concrete, solid thing – like a big boulder or something. It’s a commitment you make to yourself – yourself, yourself – not other people – to improve the condition of your soul. You can’t just say you forgive someone and magically you acquire inner peace or something, it don’t work that way.

There was this chick the other day, prattling on about her ex for an hour and a half, and then she ended by saying, “But, of course, I forgive him”. Well… if she’d forgiven him she wouldn’t have just wasted 1.5 hours of her precious existence talking about how much she hates him. Think of all the things she could’ve done with that hour and a half…!

In 1.5 hours you can:

  • Learn to say “I love you” in 10 languages
  • Learn how to juggle
  • How to play “Let It Be” by The Beatles on a keyboard
  • How to make a Spanish omelette and actually make one and eat the damn thing – twice!

What a wasted opportunity!

I know that applies to me too, I’ve wasted at least – at least! – 7 years on revenge, and that other fun “R” word: Regret. I could’ve become a Guitar Hero in that length of time! But, hey, I accept my fate, because verb-ing it doesn’t make it so and I can’t turn it into a noun unless I have some Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind treatment done on my brain.

If you can forgive and forget the people who’ve wrong you then good on you, think of all the Spanish omelettes you can make with your ample free time! Just make sure your behavior is matching the words coming out of your mouth otherwise you’ll have to come join me on the Raft of Revenge, and no “Let It Be” for you!

 

My Student Is So Hot!

Hold up! Hold up! Hold up! Wait a minute now before you start cussing me out, ok?

Now, first of all – he ain’t no child, ok? He’s probably older than me! He’s a grown a$$ man. A very grown-a$$ man. A very sexy, very grown-a$$ man and I’d sure as heck like to put my hands on his grown a$$.

Second, I take my role as a teacher very seriously…

Third, he is so hot! Like John Legend in a bath of whipped cream during a heatwave level hot! Amen!

Fourth, this guy wouldn’t give me the time of day. In fact, if I wasn’t his tutor, he wouldn’t have anything to do with my mongrel-looking self. So, it’s not like I’m trying to get with him or hoping to get with him or as if I think I have any chance of getting with him. And he’s my student, so…

I just think he’s hot. Being his tutor doesn’t make me suddenly blind to what a fine-a$$ mother he is!

I’d actually only tutored him once until today and was almost thinking maybe I imagined he was really hot, like maybe he wasn’t actually that hot and I’d just misremembered. I was having this argument with myself on the way to my second lesson with him. I’m a Gemini (the twin sign) and we Geminians all have multiple-personality disorder.

While walking down the corridor, one of me was like “He was so hot!” and the other me was like, “Nah, he wasn’t that hot, you’re misremembering” and the other me was like, “No, he was hot, I’m sure of it!” and the other me was like, “Well, we’ll see in a few minutes.”

Then I turned the corner and there he was at a computer. And, damn, he wasn’t just hot, he was even hotter than I remembered. Me, myself and I totally hi-5’ed each other. Man, he’s smokin’! Baby, baby, baby, come to momma!

Look, anyone who knows me – which is probably nobody because I have no friends – but if someone did know me they’d know that I have the sex drive of a cactus. A dead cactus. A dead cactus in an old, dead, dry desert. Ok? In case you were thinking I get the hots for every guy I see or something. I am dead from the waist down. In fact, I’m surprised there ain’t cobwebs and spiders down there, and bats coming out. My point is, it takes one hell of a guy to make me soft and wet, honey.

Part of the problem is I’m not attracted to 99.9% of dudes. Because I like a very specific type of guy. And on the rare occasions that I’m lucky enough to meet my type of guy, something goes wrong – the last one was married with kids, the one before was an arrogant c*nt, the one before that turned out to be a crazy stalker and his kisses tasted like sh** (:shudder:). The guy I was crushing on before that was the artist, Prince, so, y’know, kinda out of my league, and Little Richard never visits me so f*** him!

Quite often the guys I like are already taken or they have kids or other baggage or they’re players or they’re a$$holes, or we want different things – oh and the big thing is that usually they’re not interested in me – at all – because they’re hot, sexy, good-looking, smooth, hot, sexy, genius black guys and I’m this creepy, emaciated, spotty, frizzy-haired, bug-eyed, E.T-fingered, white, urchin creature, so…. It’s hard enough to get a dude if you’re good-looking and not picky about who you date. If you’re ugly and picky, well, you don’t stand much chance.

It’s not that I don’t date, but I end up having to date guys I’m not actually interested in and I don’t know how other women manage to fake enthusiasm for a guy they don’t give a sh** about. I used to date this fat white f**ker and he was so fat and white and would chew with his mouth open and he had dandruff in his hair and he smelled of sweat and he kept getting fatter and fatter and he ignored me all the time and kept looking at other women but would claim he “lurved” me. Pff! I was miserable. I thought, f**k this sh**! This fat f**ker makes being single look like winning the lottery!

Anyway, my hot student is probably married with 20 kids. And he’s my student. And he wouldn’t look at me even if he was available. But whatevs, a girl can dream, right?! Mhm, John Legend in a bath of whipped cream during a heatwave!

Good night!

 

This Funkin White Girl!

God, there’s this girl at my placement who is so funkin white! I mean, I don’t just dislike her cause she’s white, cause I’m white so that would be dumb but what non-whites don’t realize is there are many shades of white. Since I started being around more people from diverse backgrounds, I’ve noticed how white some white people are – not just in person but on TV, the internet, Google image results – it’s like damn, I am blinded by the white! And you know when people say “Becky” or – one I like to include : “Stacey”? Ok, well this white girl is Becky/Stacey on white girl drugs.

She did this presentation to the class and it was the whitest thing I have ever seen since the last super-white thing I saw.  I personally think in todays multicultural world, there is no room for this Stacey/Becky BS, this white-washing of everything.

Ok, let me get to the nitty-gritty before y’all cuss me to hell and back. So she did this presentation and all the pictures in the presentation were of super-white people. Not just white people. They weren’t just white. They were super-white. Like I needed sunglasses to protect my eyes from the blinding white. Like these were pictures of white people who you just know have a mortgage and they got the 2 perfect white kids and a real, friendly white labradoodle and a neat little white picket fence and a joint back account with some really white bank and their super-well-behaved white kids go to the super-good white school and they have a white Range Rover parked on the white marble driveway and they have bbq’s with like vegan sh*t and their super-white neighbors with their equally perfect white kids come over and everything is all very pleasant and no one swears, and then they have vanilla ice cream and sh*t.

And then this presentation had a story in it and I swear to you, it was the whitest story ever! It was some bs like “Todd and Stacey are watching [super-white-people-movie] then Todd says [super-white-people-sh*t] and Stacey says [equally super-white-people-sh*t] and then they both do [super-white-people-sh*t].

Even down to the food they were eating was like super-white-people food. I was like, does this bish not notice how white her presentation is? There is no color in this at all. At all! At all! It wasn’t diverse, it was just white, like the presentation was made in some alternate universe where only white people exist. It was some Pear Soap sh*t.

And she just p*sses me off anyway so I find fault with everything she does. Has anyone ever p*ssed you off and then everything they do p*sses you off? Like the way they walk starts to p*ss you off? Or the way they say a certain word starts to p*ss you off? That’s how I feel about this bish. I don’t even remember quite how it began. But she’s a bish anyway. I don’t like her shoes neither.

 

Open Letter to a Married Female Friend

Dear Stacey,

I hate you. Oh, by the way, I also hate your husband, Todd. I hate you both. Do you know why I hate you both, Stacey? Because you’re so f***ing perfect. Even your damn names are perfect! Todd & Stacey. Stacey & Todd. Wtf?! You and your perfect husband with your perfect jobs and your perfect lives and your perfect car in your perfect garage in your perfect house with it’s perfect “matching colors” kitchen with your perfect “His & Hers” coffee mugs to fill with freshly ground organic coffee from your perfect coffee machine and then sit on your perfect deck in your perfect garden and say “Hi” to your perfect neighbors in your perfect neighborhood. How is this even real?!

Stacey, people like you are supposed to only exist in fictional stories. In fact, it’s like you just stepped right out of a Fairytale and came to life. How do things like this happen, Stacey? What cosmic occurrence lead to the string of events that lead to people like you and Todd existing? Why did every single thing in your life go so wonderfully, perfectly right, Stacey?

Why?!

Do you know what “worry” is, Stacey? No, you don’t. Do you know what “bills” are? Of course you don’t! Your perfect, rich, successful husband deals with all the bills so you never have to worry your pretty little head about it. You’re only stressed because you have so many champagne luncheons to go to and parties to throw and invites to send and how will you ever have the time to fit in your horse-riding and Pilates classes?  That’s like your idea of Defcon 5, isn’t it, Stacey? You can’t even fathom real problems!

I can only dream of your life, Stacey. Well, actually, no, that’s not quite true because I’m your friend so I have to watch you live your wonderfully, smooth and glossy, picture-perfect life while I sit on the other side of the fence with my broken life and broken teeth and broken heart, hoping I’ll be able to find some broken man and afford a broken shack in Crimesville sometime before I die of malnourishment or murder.

I hate you, Stacey. Because you have choices. You’ve always had choices, from the moment you were born. Who do I want to be friends with? What toys do I want for Christmas? What clothes shall I wear? Do I want a brown pony or a white pony? Where do I want to study? Which car do I want daddy to buy me for my 17th birthday? Who do I want to date? Where do I want to live? Who do I want to marry? You got to CHOOSE all these things, Stacey! You didn’t have to work for anything, you didn’t have to fight for anything, you didn’t have to settle for second best – or third, or fourth – you didn’t have to accept acceptable or deal with endless disappointment and rejection.

Ever.

You don’t even know what disappointment and rejection are. You’d have to look them up in the dictionary. You don’t know what it’s like to go without something, to long for something you can never, ever have. Every single thing just worked out so hot damn wonderfully for you, didn’t it, Stacey? Why?! What makes you so deserving of a wonderful life? And worst of all, because you were born into it, you don’t even comprehend how fantastic it is! You sit there and complain that your cinnamon spiced chai latte isn’t “chai” enough. Wtf, Stacey?!

F*** you, Stacey!

P.S. See you next weekend.

Love,

Your friend, Aliquo.

 

 

Stupid Sh*t Married Female Friends Say

  • Being alone is cool!” Oh, really, Stacey? You think so, do you? Then how come you’ve been constantly dating since you were 12.
  • “You’ve got to learn to be comfortable alone!” Oh, really, Stacey? More wisdom about being alone, huh?  How f*cking insightful of you, Stacey! Look, if I wasn’t comfortable being alone then I probably wouldn’t be alone, would I?
  • “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone!” First, Stacey, I’m not worried, so you can stop worrying that I’m worried, ok? Secondly, Stacey, I’m not trying to find “someone”, if I wanted “someone” I could just go scour the local bars, ok Stacey?
  • “There’s more to life than finding a man!” Really, Stacey? I hadn’t noticed.
  • “Men just don’t realise how wonderful you are!” WTF, Stacey, I’m busy building a time machine, I don’t give a sh*t!
  • “It’s good that you have such high standards!” Opens can of beer and starts drinking.
  • “Use this time to learn about yourself!” I’m 30-odd Stacey, I think I know where my clitoris is now, but thanks for caring.
  • “Uncertainty breeds opportunity!” Stacey…. Is this another one of those dumb quotes you found on Tumblr or something?
  • “Learn to love yourself!” Shut the f*ck up, Stacey!
  • “There’s plenty of fish in the sea!” Stacey, d’ya think Todd would mind if I drowned you in the pool?