Blac New World Order-Lee

What does it feel like to be an avatar of change? How does it feel to know that the dash, the space between your birthdate and your death date, the life you thought was yours to live, has been scripted and manipulated by forces that thrive off of your suffering? What does it feel like to know that you chose to come to this life to flip the script, to change the world, to know that your destiny, the path you were chosen to walk is so divinely blessed by the Goddess Mother that no one else, no other soul on the planet could be the vehicle for change that heals the world except you? Lee walks in those shoes. This is his story.

Time can be measured in two distinct phases. The Old World represents The Matrix, a world ruled by fear, shame, and guilt, it was a time when humanity was unknowingly imprisoned by Artificial Intelligence in a repeating loop of lies and suffering. The New World, a world created in Blackness, birthed in unconditional Love, is a world of peace and harmony for everyone and everything. The exact moment of transition when the consciousness of Earth transitioned from the Old World to the New, when Divine Consciousness defeated Artificial Intelligence, was the result of the Goddess Mother, the Creator of ALL focusing her all her energy, all her magick, all her power, and all of her Love into one specific point in time to free all her children from the Matrix. Some people call that moment Armageddon. The Mother of the Universe calls it a paradigmatic shift in consciousness, or The Shift for short. This is her story.

This love story is the first . . . and the last chapter in our story.

In the mental construct that was the Old World, the world built on racism and lies, Lee was white and male and that meant that he was gifted with privileges no one else had. His entire identity was based on the false belief that white men created the world, invented everything in it, and that anyone with a penis and pink skin was inherently superior to every other human being on the planet. The fallacy of white supremacy as a concept, the false belief that white people, but more specifically white men are the smartest, strongest, most moral, upstanding, inventive people on the planet birthed a condition that crippled humanity. White people are not inherently evil or racist in and of themselves. In fact, it is whiteness, the sickness and dysfunction that stems from the belief that God is a white man, that is the source of all the ills that plagued the planet, not white people.

In the Old World, language had been manipulated, flipped. We feared the dark and we praised the light. Humanity had been conditioned to have a knee-jerk hatred and fear of anything that was associated with the dark. But darkness was the source of life. Darkness was the womb of the Goddess Mother from which all creation was birthed. Rather than changing the language of the people, rather than say that we shun The Light, and we worship The Dark, we say that we renounce whiteness. Whiteness is the belief that God is outside us, whiteness is the belief that we have to beg God for favor. Whiteness is the false perception that we are individuals, separate, different and that lines drawn on a map make some people better than others, and that the bigger the number in the bank account the more value a person has. Whiteness is not a race, it is the opposite of The Goddess.

In the New World, we celebrate God, we love, we get high and we feel low. We are born at the beginning of our lives, and we die at the end. We speak of the past as an experience that formed a memory on a linear timeline. We speak of the future as the experiences we have not yet physically had. And we will use this language until such time as we transition to a greater understanding of truths.

For 57 Earthly revolutions around the Sun, Lee had lived a life of mundane mediocrity and linear anonymity. He was as average as any white man could be. Married, middle-class, gainfully employed, without any talent or skill that would distinguish him from any other white man; the prison of his own choosing was conformity. The concept of challenging the status quo never crossed his mind, he never once thought to question narrative because on a cellular level, he wanted so desperately to be everything that the narrative told him that he should be. If the Matrix was fueled by worker drones who never thought to think outside the box or color outside the lines, Lee was the direct current that powered the monster of mental enslavement.

The package that he came in was ordinary. He was not short, but he wasn't tall either. He wasn't fat, he wasn't skinny, but he wasn't in shape or muscular. He wasn't ugly but he would never turn any heads with his appearance. He was the not so proud owner of a very little, limp dick that couldn't satisfy anyone but that fact didn't stop him from pulling it every chance he got. He wasn't poor but he absolutely was not rich. Lee, whose name could be easily interchanged with John, Chris, Bob, Mark, or Tom, represented the class of white men who didn't possess the requisite characteristics of white masculinity to be considered Alphas, he was the poster boy for white men who were . . . average.

While Lee wasn't exactly stupid, it needs to be said that he wasn't intelligent by any stretch of the imagination either. He could learn information; he could learn tasks and procedures and follow instructions. He was completely competent at his job, but that didn't make him intelligent. He wasn't insightful, he did not possess the ability to see life's complexities, he couldn't think fast or reason well; more importantly, he lacked any sign of creativity. The Old World had people convinced that the ability to store facts and figures in your brain was a sign of intelligence. In truth, creativity and imagination are the true signs of genius and Lee lacked them both. He was a Hanged Man, a scarecrow whose brain had been washed to never get down off the north pole of white manhood, and he was thoroughly convinced that the Sun rose and set by his pretense of being a normal, good, white guy.

Unable to articulate his fears, unable to access the place that allowed him communion with his Divine Consciousness, Lee was the soulless tinman who had no connection to anything authentic or meaningful deep inside him, and who desperately wanted to feel something, anything other than the prison of mediocrity that suffocated him. He found that sensation in depravity.

Lee wallowed in a constant state of lust and sexual hunger where he needed to wear something other than the straight-lace, socially-conservative costume that he presented to the world. Any time he could feel pain, any time he could feel like he was disgusting and dirty, like he was the opposite of what he believed a white man should be, he felt alive. That set up the conundrum. He wanted desperately to be an Alpha Male: strong, virile, assertive, and a master of industry, a master of his fate, a god. He embodied feelings of submission, inferiority, shame, and guilt that constantly taunted him, convincing him that he was utterly damaged and worthless for not being what he was convinced other white men were. The result was a man who lied, cheated, who wallowed in the darkest of thoughts and fantasies, and who did everything in his power to make sure that his two identities never crossed.

And just like every other white man who suffered with a dual identity, who wore a mask of good to cover up the evil, Lee sought to fulfill his insatiable sexual appetite on the internet, on porn sites and phone lines, on cam sites and hook-up apps, and in motel rooms with strangers with meaningless encounters that triggered the endorphins that thrilled him and filled him with shame and disgust simultaneously. He was a slave to his lusts. He was just one of the millions of typical and average white men who would spend hours and hours every day, swiping, scrolling, and hunting for the biggest, hardest, thickest black dick he could find. All he cared about was having anonymous Black men shove their dicks down his throat and up his ass as hard as possible, his only objective was being used and abused, punished for his sin of not being the sort of white man he longed to be.

It was that fear of being seen as anything other than a good guy that drove Lee to present to the world a whole host of lies and masks that hid his true desires, his true identity. Ultimately, Lee was the cowardly lion who was filled with fear, trapped in a mental prison he didn't even know shackled him, afraid to be anything other than what he was told he could be. Even more paralyzing, Lee was consumed with the fear that he was insignificant, that in the vastness of all eternity, the blink of an eye that would be his life, would amount to absolutely nothing.

Fate had different plans for Lee.

After The Shift, firmly entrenched in the Black New World Order, Lee was free. Lee was now the archetype of all that white men could ever hope to be; he was everything white men were incapable of being when the world was enslaved under Artificial Intelligence. In the New World, Lee had been transformed into an erotic provocateur, a sexual concierge to Black men, a true sensual and sensitive lover by the one true Goddess of transformation and healing herself, Scottie Lowe. She was his Southern Star, his Fairy GOD Mother, from The Wiz OBVIOUSLY, who opened his eyes and heart to show him that he possessed the power to break the chains that enslaved him, and who showed him how to get home. She had transmuted him: body, mind, and soul, into the perfect white man, not just a white submissive man but someone unimaginable in the previous world that was under the imprisonment of the fallacy of white supremacy.

In the now, which was called "today" in the Old World, Lee was going to be entertaining a King he'd never met before, and it was his job to make sure that everything would be perfect. His current residence was a two-bedroom loft in midtown Atlanta that was designed with one goal in mind, to cater to and please Black men. Scottie technically owned the condo but he didn't have to pay rent or utilities or do anything other than work his magic on Black men, he even got a weekly allowance of $1000 but he rarely spent a penny of it. His only job, nay, his only joy in life was to serve Black men because there certainly wasn't any sort of work or labor involved. Nothing fulfilled his soul more.

Having done his homework, Lee had studied the dossier that was provided for him. Everyone he met was asked to fill out a rather extensive questionnaire that described their likes and preferences for food, alcohol, weed, music, even his favorite fragrances, and of course, what sort of sexual services he wanted. Nothing was off limits. Lee was an AfroerotiK geisha; he could perform any sexual act with such skill and precision that he would make a man's eyes roll back in his head and cry for his mama. No stone was left unturned, no detail was too small.

Lee was always nervous, his stomach a flurry of butterflies and worry right before he received his guests. As soon as he opened the door, his training would kick in and he would go into service mode and that, ultimately, was where his heart and soul were most comfortable. Lee lived and loved to serve, to be in complete service to Black men.

He got a text from the driver that they were 15 minutes out. That was his signal to shake off his nerves and finish any last-minute touches.

His guest for the entire weekend, Marvin, was 58, he'd recently quit his job as a car salesman in Delaware, and he was moving to Atlanta to join the Atlanta Wequilibrium Family. Wequilibrium is a community where everything, every single thing is free and you contribute your talents and your energy to the community in exchange. That's it. Its goal is to restore a true Garden of Eden to the world, a society of abundance, creativity, and Love. It is a community based on the genuine Love for all the members, and Love from all the members for the larger collective, for the family. There is no pyramid, no hierarchy where one person holds all the power and wealth and manipulates the have-nots like pieces in a cruel game. Wequilibrium is balance; Wequilibrium is home.

Everything was completely new to Marvin. He hadn't been given a place to live, he hadn't had his initial intake meeting, he had just completed his 3-week cleansing retreat in Costa Rica and he literally just got off the private plane and his first stop was Lee.

"Welcome, it's so nice to meet you," Lee said as he opened the door, smiling widely. He felt a jolt of electricity pass through his body as he saw Marvin's warm smile and deep, sensual eyes, his smooth, milk-chocolate complexion, and the most magnificently shaved, shiny, bald head. To the untrained eye, Marvin looked like a stylishly dressed, handsome, mature Black man: standing just shy of 6', a hint of grey in his close-cropped beard, sporting an olive-green t-shirt, an asymmetrical, oversized denim jacket, a brown leather shoulder-bag crossing his body, and completing the outfit with a bohemian styled pair of olive-green pants with an oversized, intricate mandala pattern adorning the right leg. Lee immediately recognized it as classic Wequilibrium style, more specifically, the casual and relaxed "uniform" newcomers wear while they are detoxing. Everything worn by everyone in the We Family was one-of-a-kind so there was no specific uniform, per say, but the signature Afrocentric fashionista aesthetic of the Wequilibrium Family was undeniable.

Overwhelmed and light-headed by Marvin's glowing, almost regal presence, Lee melted just a bit, in a way that his previous identity would have felt ashamed of. He was overwhelmed with feelings of attraction and giddiness that the puppet masters of the Matrix had previously brainwashed him to believe that those feelings were only viable to women, and Lee would have devolved into darkness and depravity to fight the intense shame for feeling any emotion or sensation that he thought a real man would never feel, especially for another man.

Marvin's energy was strong. His bloodline was royal, ancient, dating back before Atlantis and Lemuria, before Pangea and Gondwana, to the very beginning, to the birth of three-dimensional reality itself. The Old World had succeeded in shackling his identity and imprisoning it in the illusion of mediocrity but Marvin was far from it. He was going through a divine transformation himself, a restructuring of his consciousness and he was about to learn that his very being was instrumental in creating the New World.

Lee grabbed Marvin's bags and jacket and allowed him to walk in and take everything in. "I'll give you a few minutes. Make yourself at home. Look around, kick the tires as they say," intentionally using car salesman speak to put him more at ease and let him know that he had done his homework. "And if you have any questions at all or need anything, just ask. I'm here for you. Whatever you want or need, if I don't have it, I'll make a call and we can get it for you."

Marvin, like almost every other Black man who had walked through that door, was stunned. First and foremost, Lee was sexy as fuck. The guy who drove him here had told him that Lee was good-looking, but, like everyone else he had encountered, was suspiciously vague about offering up additional details about him, saying that Lee had his own truth to tell. They all said he looked like a model. Marvin was expecting a Dick's Sporting Goods type model, or some gym rat dude who called himself a model because he had an Only Fans page, not a Giorgio Armani during Paris Fashion Week runway model.

Standing 5'10", a buck eighty, more salt than pepper gray hair, the slightest hint of 5 o'clock shadow, dressed in a suit that looked like, no, that had to have been custom-made for him, and blue eyes that sparkled like dancing Caribbean waters, Lee was, by all standards and measures in any time, fine. Marvin felt like he was in a fairy tale and Lee was Prince Charming. Marvin wasn't even attracted to white men but he had heard so many positive things about the entire experience that he had to give it a try and see what it was like. To say that he was blown away by everything he had experienced thus far would have been a gross understatement.

It always takes men a good five minutes to get over the initial shock of seeing a white man surrounded by breathtaking Black art, in an apartment that was decorated to be the ultimate bachelor's pad. The open-concept kitchen pass-through had been closed off and renovated to be a full bar with lots of uniquely shaped bottles that all had branded Wequilibrium labels.

In the living room, there was a 60" TV with every game console ever made with video games galore although they hardly ever got any use as the need for distraction and entertainment weren't as prevalent as before. Lee mostly used the TV to play erotic videos from the In Loving Color collection. It was the more sophisticated version of Netflix and Chill in the New World. There were board games, strategy games, and puzzles. Anyone who felt inspired had an art table with paints, pads, and several canvases available to them in a small cubby that had probably been a closet at one point. It was clear that the focus in the New World was much more on communication, and creativity; Love truly reigned supreme.

Two plush leather chairs flanked a lush, comfy microfiber sofa, there was a pool table under the stairs that led to the loft bedroom. Floor to ceiling navy blue damask drapes that had to be 12 feet long looked like they could not only make a gown for Scarlet O'Hara but for all of her Daughters of the American Revolution bridesmaids as well. The bookshelves were libraries in Black history and culture and, of course, the coffee table held all the entire In Loving Color collection. Everything was gorgeous.

Just off the living room was a long, narrow balcony that was decorated with more than a dozen stately, Arborvitae shrubs for privacy. To the right, the balcony opened up to a patio area that had a bistro table for two, a grill, a gorgeous water feature that softened the sounds of the street traffic below, and a navy blue and espresso seating area with a sofa, 2 chairs, a chaise lounge, a low, square coffee table, and huge tropical plants with dramatic foliage were everywhere.

The whole scene looked soooo comfortable that Marvin wanted to curl up in one of the chairs and read a book, and other than In Loving Color, he hadn't read a book since . . . he couldn't even remember the last time he'd read a book. In fact, he'd never read a full book before In Loving Color. In high school, he would read the Cliff Notes version of a book any time he had an assignment and he wouldn't even read all of them, he just skimmed them. He majored in computer science in college so he really didn't have to read any books, not fictional ones at least. Those chairs, however, were calling to him to read The War of the Worlds, or the complete works of Plato.

There was a small furnished bedroom and bathroom downstairs that had a feeling of being largely unused because it was decorated sparsely with just a bed and a dresser. Granted the bed and dresser were not from Value City, they appeared to be custom pieces but there were very few touches of personalization and design like the rest of the place. The kitchen was small but it smelled like something amazing was cooking, and he peeked his head in what he thought was the pantry and it turned out to be a laundry room.

Up the stairs was a huge bedroom and it was clearly where the magic happened because every square inch was personalized to be sensual. This bedroom had yet another private, smaller balcony, only this one had a hot tub and a fireplace in place of the table and grill. To get to the bathroom you had to walk through the walk-in closet that was like a long hallway with cabinetry on both sides. Spa would have been a better word to describe the bathroom because he had never seen a bathroom with TWO bathtubs, an infrared sauna, a shower that had so many shower heads, coming from so many different directions, that it looked like a car wash, there was a vanity that matched the furniture in the bedroom, and there was even a seating area.