inside jamari fox

when i asked cousin hybrid his thoughts on the recent nicki,
he said:

“she was never quite high above it to me.
she’s been telling ya’ll she’s crazy with roman lol”

it sat on my noggin for about bit.
i mean,
i get the roman alt and loved it but when did we all get so brain dead that we can’t see…

i didn’t realize empathy had died until i saw the crowd it drew.
influencers in black,
ring lights at the casket,
hashtags as eulogies.
somewhere between the reposts and the think pieces,
the human part of caring got lost.
everyone’s mourning but no one’s moved…

last night,
i was telling someone that 2025 has been the year of learning people.
they were grieving someone they loved that passed away.
someone who complained about how cruel folks were to them when they were alive.
those same jackals in 2025?

posting tributes
writing novels on all the socials
acting like they cared for clout

…but the one on the phone who actually stood by them?
they are being treated like a ghost.

these days,
a crisis only matters if it trends on tiktok.
if it becomes a 30-video saga with sad music and captions for sympathy.
we got people with typical ‘send love’ or ‘checking in’,
but disappear the second it gets inconvenient.
empathy out; self absorption in.
they WILL reappear if you win the lottery,
get nominated for an emmy,
or fuckin’ drop dead.

we’ve got a president who confuses pettiness for leadership and who thinks empathy is weakness.

…and i’m starting to realize more of us are like him than we care to admit.
that should hurt feelings.
so i can’t help but wonder…

when i was a kid,
my mother bought me a doll.
i think my mother would have been okay with me being gay tbh.
it wasn’t barbie or a baby doll,
but it was def a doll the size of a ninja turtle.
i loved this doll and played with it along with my action figures.

the way i played with toys was usually superhero shit.
the female characters were either fighting or were “damsels to rescue”.
i would create worlds with my imagination,
often times taking boxes and making tanks or battleships.

well,
one day my doll up and disappeared.
anytime my grandmother wasn’t home,
i tore her house down looking for my doll.
at a young age,
i could sense fuck shit so i KNEW she had something to do with it.

when my mother died,
she admitted she tossed it in the trash.

when i tell people this story,
they were always empathetic.
i was also told from many people that incident created trauma too.
the things our parentals did to make sure “we weren’t gay“.
when i see parents like…

if you a real “got a good photographic memory” type of muthaufucka,
you can track attentionistos by the size and length of their eggplants.
ones you THOUGHT were straight.
well,
i thought he was straight but i feel ya’ll got a “DUH” waiting for me.
for The Foxhole,
we get a ding in our senses.
so when i had a big azz ding about the following eggplant…

and the exceptionally round tail it was going in and out of

that made me put 2×2 together...

*This content is intended for audiences 18+. By accessing this page, you acknowledge that you are of legal age and agree to view adult or mature-themed material. All stories, images, and commentary are fictionalized or speculative unless otherwise stated.

Subscribe to continue reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

Type your email…

Subscribe

Already a paid subscriber?

i love brandy and monica with a passion buuuuuuuuuuuutttttt….

two weeks.
two weeks until the end.
two weeks until the trap door opens.
two weeks until i might be,
well,
homeless.

what do you do when the countdown to your next chapter feels more like a ticking time bomb than a fresh start?

i refuse to be the fox living out of his shoes…