Hey ya’ll, wassup? This is a special and exciting day for
Just Sayin, and we owe it all to you -our Connect Platform family. From day one, you've supported this endeavor; you've given a constant flow of encouragement and inspiration. Words are not enough to express the depth of our gratitude. Today,
Just Sayin has become so much more than a simple Blog. Today, in large part because of all of you,
Just Sayin has launched on the Web. Today, the dream you planted in my heart and watered so lovingly is officially a full-fledged Cyber Newspaper. More than ever, I'm thrilled you stopped by; we hope you enjoy this baby you've birthed.
Just Sayin Yeah! Bravo! Awesome! I woke my husband up shouting over this news. I know I'm not the only one who is ecstatic. The Brown family, the Goldman family and abused women everywhere are undoubtedly jumping for joy.
Like you, I remember O. J. the hero. My dad was a major football fan; when O.J. won the Heisman Trophy daddy was thrilled by his accomplishment and my preteen self was mesmerized by … well his beauty. Let’s face it, the brother was fine; he’d turned me into a football fan. Orenthal James Simpson was the catalyst for all the Sundays daddy and I spent shouting at the TV and ignoring momma’s teasing reminders, “it’s only a game.” But it was more, watching “The Juice” was poetry in motion; fleet on legs Rickets had threatened to destroy was inspiration, proof everything was possible. He was the prince charming of my adolescent crushes.
Flash forward. I was sitting in Denny’s sharing pancakes with my then 2-year-old son when the news came over the radio that Nicole Simpson and an unidentified man were brutally murdered outside Nicole’s Brentwood home. I gasped, “Oh my God; O. J. finally killed her.” I had long heard rumors of his propensity for violence against woman; many whispers hinted his abusive behavior caused the end of his first marriage to Marguerite L. Whitley. Rumors she vehemently denied during the circus following Nicole’s death. Still, in that moment I knew my childhood fantasy was a real life monster. I sat there and cried.
Now, I’m going to admit what many of us won’t. I knew O. J. was guilty; heck I think we all did. But, I too, felt some strange vindication at his acquittal; somehow it was comforting to know a Black man’s money could buy undeserved freedom just like a White man’s. I was angry though too. They let him off, just like the man who had beat me for ten years, and once again, the verdict made it clear that a woman’s only value was between her legs.
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Posted By: Michelle Diane
Sunday, October 5th 2008 at 5:08PM
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