I have stared at this white screen in front of me for two hours now. I have no idea what words I want to carve onto its emptiness. When I commit words to paper, they become sacred promises, bound to my soul, no matter how tight and painful the bind becomes.

The problem is this. The tightrope of love and fear I walk on is taut tonight. I am tired, so my grip is weak. The regular ELLA reader may be asking your self, “How is that any different from her normal state of being since Paris killed Ella?”

Well, I’ll tell you.

When Paris killed Ella, he pushed me off a cliff, into a darkness I knew existed, but never thought I would become so intimate with. I was ambushed. Had no time to decide between fight or die. Had no choice but to conjure some sort of burning bush, and hold onto it with every ounce of love and courage I had, no matter how badly I was burned.

And I did it. I say all the time there is not much that truly scares me in life anymore. There are some things. I am afraid of my son. I am afraid for my son. And I am scared of cliffs.

Which is why I am about the jump off one. On purpose. I jump in spite of the fear that has started whispering its insidious thoughts in my heart’s ear the last couple of weeks. My love has won the “Cheerleader of the World” award in perpetuity, so it can outshout the fear, but the toil of having to listen to this shouting match in your head, day in and day out, takes a toll. Does it not?

So what cliff have I decided to jump off of, you ask? I will have reached my cliff, metaphorically, spiritually, and emotionally, when I reach the west bank of the Mississippi River, on October 1, 2012. That is the end of my one-woman, human rights road trip. And the beginning of stage two of my plan to make The ELLA Foundation a place of hope, healing, and empowerment for as many people as my puny human heart can possibly withstand, until it blissfully gives out.

Last year on September 21, 2011, Georgia murdered Troy Davis. I wrote, filmed, and shared the resulting speech to cope with my grief, and my anger, brought about by his death. This year, on the one-year anniversary of Troy’s murder, I write a sacred promise to my soul. I bind it on top of the many other promises that already bind it. I will do my best to keep it, no matter how tight and painful my binds become.

I’ve been posting little tidbits here and there about my plans for ELLA in Mississippi. It’s time for the full rendering of my belief in ELLA’s potential. If only I can pull it off…that damn fear.

So here’s the plan. On October 1, 2012, The ELLA Foundation, and myself, are setting up shop in Jackson, MS. For good. ELLA’s accountant, cadre of lawyers, bankers, and close friends, have been notified. That’s how serious I am. That’s how much I believe in love. Take that, fear.

Once there, I am going to do my research. (Always do your research before you jump off a cliff, on purpose.) What do I want to learn? I want to learn neighborhood crime states, school test scores, poverty levels and distribution, percentage of neighborhood population who have done time.

When I find the neighborhood that averages out as the worst, thereby being the most in need of an ELLA’s Place, I’m going to buy the biggest house I can afford, and move in. Paint the house royal purple with hot pink trim. Put out my ELLA’s Place sign.

ELLA’s Place

 A Promise of The ELLA Foundation

 Violence Prevention & Healing Center

 ALL are welcomed with love.

 

I will walk my neighborhood. In peace.

FACT. You are more at risk of being murdered or raped by the man or woman you share your bed with. Not the man or woman you walk by on the street. Be aware. Not afraid.

I will meet my neighbors. I will meet the church ministers, elders, ladies, and members in my neighborhood. I will meet the Principals, school board members, city council members, city, and state reps. Hell, why think small? Why not the Governor of Mississippi, whomever that may be when ELLA needs their help?

I will meet and embrace every one who looks my way AND those who turn away. I will open ELLA’s door to all who need help. I will do my best to provide whatever help I can, in the ways I know how. Along the way, I will learn better ways. Of this I am sure. This plan is proof of that.

ELLA’s Place will start small. As donations, book sales, and those willing to give their time and talents to help ELLA grow, so will ELLA grow. I will go broke before I give up. ELLA’s fate is in better hands than mine, so I have no doubt all will be provided, as needed. I am here to write that sentence, so I must be right.

I had no say so in the woman my Ella could have grown up to be. I way only blessed to watch her grow four years in body, but infinite in love and light. But this ELLA, this ELLA I have a vision for that does not have to die, no matter how hard some may try to destroy it. If I can overcome the fear that whispers to me, keep the demons I live with appeased into subtle submission, this ELLA could stand a pretty good test of time. Of course, only time will tell.

At first, ELLA will continue the work I have begun on behalf of those on Mississippi’s death row. I have been in touch with some of the boys and they are a wise bunch. They have their moments too. They are human after all.

I have also spoken to many of their family members, loved ones, and supporters. Talk about another wise bunch of beings. When I arrive in Mississippi, we will organize meetings and plan our course of action in terms of anti-death penalty work.

Needless to say, a lot of it will involve protests, media, higher education, church, and other group’s involvement, advocacy training for the families, and bugging politicians. More will come on the anti-death penalty work as the families sort out their needs. They know better than I do what they need. I am there to help make it come to be. I am there to help them make Mississippi care about their loved ones on the row.

The first community project that ELLA’s Place is going to implement, as soon as the hot pink trim is dry and the proper inspections, permits, insurance policies, and background checks have been performed, is an after school program for children in the neighborhood schools who have an incarcerated parent/s. A program focused on expression, empathy, and activism.

FACT. A child who has a parent in prison is 70% more likely to end up in prison him/herself.

I like myths. So did my kids. I’ve read and looked to them my entire life when tough choices rule my path. I believe we are all on a hero’s journey called life. That 70% crap needs to be made a myth. I want that to read that kids from ELLA’s hood have a damn good chance at an amazing life, no matter what mistakes their parent may, OR MAY NOT, have made. No matter what tragedy their life has or may suffer.

So an after school program it is. Come hell or high water, I will have children’s laughter in my life again. I have earned it. If I can’t mother my kids, then I pass it on, on a grander scale.

And that is just the beginning, my friends. I foresee a day when there is an ELLA’s Place in as many bad neighborhoods as I can afford to move ELLA into, run by as many like-minded people I can convince, by example, to have faith in life and love, no matter what, and to move into the houses ELLA buys, paints purple with hot pink trim, and plants a sign in front of.

I am staking every chip I have left, and the core of my being, on the people of Mississippi who need some love, some hope, some healing, some ELLA in their lives. I am bringing to Mississippi the fight I survived my hell to fight. ALL my signs point that direction. Signs I can’t even begin to explain. Signs that have me convinced Mississippi is where both ELLA and I will truly begin to shine.

So I’m giving it all I’ve got, in spite of the fact what I was really thinking those two hours I spent staring at this screen earlier, was to type, I QUIT!!!!, and disappear from known existence. I am tired.

I am going to wrap up this blog soon. I have a Juice Box and blog edits to look forward to before I share my promise, wrap up my fear, tell my love to stop yelling awhile so I can get some sleep. In short, take charge of my love, and my fear, and face my inevitable destiny.

I have spent the last thirty-eight years of my life trying to prove something, to someone.

Prove to my mother I was lovable.

Prove to my son he is loved.

Prove to Ella I won’t let her down. Again.

Prove to everyone I am the woman they all say they clearly see.

There are so many reflections pointing back at you when you spend your life trying to prove yourself to others, it’s sometimes hard to see the path through the light and look out for the unintended cliffs. But I took vow never to be blind, deaf, or dumb again. So, as soon as I reach the west bank of the Mississippi River, the only person I will worry about proving anything to is me. Just me.

I am my only demon now. It’s time to take care of this one the way I have all the rest. With my ELLA’s as my guide.

I am about to say something I never, ever, thought I would say as they wheeled Ella’s body out of my house five and a half years ago. Never, ever, thought I would say after calling my son a sadist, narcissist, and psychopath on the witness stand of the Judge who had no better choice but to send my baby to hell.

I am free. I am alive. I am not full of shit. I am blessed, and cursed, with this undefeatable ability to love, no matter what. And damn it, I am a good woman whose sole meaning in life is now derived from the fact I know I will go to my grave fighting on behalf of those who cannot, with everything I have got, to make whatever crazy, fucking, hell hole part of the world I can a better place. And ELLA’s corner of Jackson, Mississippi.

If that’s not proof that love trumps fear, every time, then I don’t know what is. Other than continuing to do my best to make the world see there is a better way to BE.

I love y’all. Thanks for taking this naked run with me on the football field of life. And stick around. Life is going to get better.

(Sorry this is late, Troy Davis. Wanted to have it done and up before midnight, but in your honor, here it is. Thanks for the inspiration.)