The Disorder
POST
Let’s break things down a little. Most don’t know & most probably won’t believe it but my Post was one that started with a teenage mother, abused father, & an environment that wasn’t made for prospering. That environment was filled with the dopest drug dealers & the nicest addicts. It was filled with colt 45 cans for baseball practice & smoke warnings when the family was telling me to “go be active”. My Post was & still is south Memphis. As a child of course the lines are blurred but with maturity the scariest part is watching them become clear. I finally understand the trauma...the stresses of a single teenage mother giving her all just to keep food on our plates, the fear of being a father with no water for his seeds, the endless love of a grandmother to keep pushing because you’re the closest thing to hope she’s seen. My Post was built on Woodward street & was the opening to my life. My Post was & still is a literal battlefield that I saw as my playground. They say ignorance is bliss but they never mention what it feels like when you gain knowledge. Knowledge of how life really works, the understanding of a background your family has tried to overcome. To ever begin to understand me you’d have to understand the climate, the pressure, & the conditioning that was subconsciously imprinted into my coding by the moments, the people, & the history of that one street.
TRAUMATIC
It’s a Traumatic environment when your friends walk around with their morals in their waistband & praying to see tomorrow is their only plan. Imagine being 8 years old at your friends house playing Spider-Man when his pops comes running to the back & magically lifts up the floor to pull out his powdered savings plan. Imagine going to the park for a little afternoon fun & all of a sudden you’re running because some dude pulled out his gun. It’s crazy how a 1on1 game on the basketball court turns into a crime scene because some dudes ego couldn’t be beat. I watched it all go down & didn’t say a thing when I got home...simply because I didn’t want granny to stop me from going. It’s crazy how those moments seemed like just another day. It’s Traumatic when your childhood best friend is calling you in middle school to explain how they can’t stop thinking about their father who was killed & mother who passed away. It’s traumatic to think about the number of people I know who have been shot & the amount of obituaries I’ve seen in my 25 short scenes. What’s most Traumatic though, is all the family members, friends, & loved ones that get lost in that world & can’t find a way out...
STRESS
Imagine that Post & insert that Trauma & try to feel what type of stress that might add to a kid that literally soaked it all in. Imagine what it’s like seeing your parents cry because they don’t have any answers. Imagine losing the one person that relates to you more than anything in this world on Christmas Eve. Imagine what it’s like being called a “white boy” by your uncle because you wanted to go to college. Imagine the stress of finally starting to understand & accept yourself without any judgement of the way you grew up & the people who nourished you... but suddenly realizing those same people are still struggling to accept themselves. Imagine what that pressure may feel like on top of everything else in life...I can’t speak for others but I know damn well it was overwhelming for me. It was & always has been a lot to take in, a lot to understand, a lot to adjust to, but most importantly, a lot to overcome!
DISORDER
Going through these moments & having these experiences aren’t the problem...living with & suppressing these moments is the Disorder. I’ve come to realize that life happens no matter what environment or social class you’re in, but the Disorder is experiencing these moments & acting like nothing ever happened. The Disorder is telling young men not to cry, but judging him when he can’t handle his emotions & asking him why? The Disorder is the facade that individuals feel the need to portray just to cover up the hurt & the pain. A pain that is captured, filtered, & diluted into catchy captions so others can see the beauty while we still feel the pain. The Disorder is how we’ve placed so much power in the word shame...or for lack of a better word, insecurities. I often have to remind myself to open up, be vulnerable, embrace the past, & whole heartedly understand that my past memories, situations, & trials all equal what I am today. Each of those moments opened up doors in my life no matter how disguised they seemed to be. Trauma & Stress are real but I’m a firm believer that the disorder only comes when we suppress those things. I’ve noticed that simply opening up & accepting my most trying moments seem to give them another light. Those moments I now see as doorways to growth & opportunity that may have not been there prior. Those doors & those decisions have elevated me to this place of peace that I realize has always been there…I just had to look for it.
Live with LOVE…
B.J. Crawford
