Higher Ground

Higher Ground

There’s a trauma that sometimes sickens me
It sits in my cells, having traveled in generations of collective memory
Finds my own consciousness and whispers
“You cannot be free; your time’s almost up; there’s nothing more you can say or be
That makes a difference

Vile liquid churns in my stinging throat and
Fear grabs hold my fighting hope and
Stills my movement and hides my rope
To stop my climb
And all I want to do is find
Before the world finally sputters and unwinds
That heralding voice that lifts and resounds
“This is the way to Higher Ground”
Put my feet on that Higher Ground…
Plant my soul in Higher Ground…
Lord, just let me feel the thrill of Higher Ground!

Written by Regina YC Garcia, July 13, 2020


The 4th Day of July, 2020

Today is the 4th
And I will claim peace
As I pray to my God
That my angst will decrease
Today is the 4th
And today I still weigh
Whether protestations for equality
Will ever hold any sway
Today is the 4th
But what does that mean
When carotid chokeholds still murder
Unarmed Black and Brown dreams
Today is the 4th
A day for which many of my ancestors
Bravely and hopefully fought
While others of my progenitors
Were trafficked, sold, and bought
Today is the 4th
And I want so badly to sing
But notes of antiblackness
Still dampen Freedom’s ring
And people still feign ignorance
Don’t understand why they shouldn’t cheer and jeer “red skins”
Or why they should welcome “huddled masses”
Who dream to enter in
And further question anger from those who’ve had an overfill
Of decades of trauma beyond the 4th
That have made liberty unreal


Today I WILL celebrate the 4th
Not for what it is, but for what could one day be
I will claim in faith and work
That we can all be free
In law and soul and spirit
We will strive for all-the-better
We must believe it’s possible
That we can craft and fashion and tether
A way that we might celebrate
A National July 4th
A Freedom Party

Regina YC Garcia, July 4, 2020

Weary Word Song


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I am weary of liturgies and requiems
I’ve written to still my soul
I am weary of emerging horrors
Perpetrated by blue hearts frozen cold
I am weary of watching my babies die
As they walk the halls of hate
As they run the streets of disdain and fear
As they dance through beguiling gates
As they are ambushed by dark spirits
Seeking release for anger and power
Shadowed in corners, prepared to pounce
Brown-bodied victims of the hour
I am weary of pouring love
And not returned the cup
I am weary of loose-lipped rhetoric
That promises “Things will change. Look up.”
I am weary of waiting on others
To decide that they will do right
My gut cannot absorb the lies
Cloaked in sugary melodies and light
I am weary of watching history repeat
Politicized plagues, unmasked and militarized streets
Fashioned nooses, licensed lynchings
Fickle help on legal benches
Tears that mourn for  the opressors’ stone glory
Absolute feigned ignorance of our stories
I am weary of watching small gods strut
I am weary of crying “My God! What
would you have me to do?
Cast them down, Lord! Bring us through! “
We live in times with naked kings, and Subjects circle to let their praises ring
And right is wrong
And Evil drops the dance and song
At our feet
While we look for saviors
To orchestrate marvelous feats
And wear cloaks of perfection
So keen to live in protection
We become confused
And employ the anciently used
All or nothing familiar ruse
And flawed logic permits many to choose
Yea, choose the enemy or downright refuse
To engage in our own escape…
I am weary
I am weary
And my words, on their own, are not enough

Regina YC Garcia

Celebrating Juneteenth 2020

So on today, I just want to stop and reflect on the concept of “freedom” as it exists in this land, particularly with the boundaries of the United States. On June 19, 1865, approximately 2 1/2 years after the Emancipation Proclamation was given, the word regarding the freedoms that had been established on January 1, 1863 finally reached Texas. This, as it relates to the physical freedom from bondage, is the date that those, who were once counted as 3/4 human, were no longer required to toil on plantations, within homes, or anywhere else within the United States without pay. The awareness of this commemoration, in recent years, has become a celebrated occurrence even outside of the state of Texas, as many around the United States continue to ponder and insist on ever increasing freedoms, equity, and equality for all. Therefore, it is fitting that we celebrate what has happened, as well as consider what needs to happen in order that we might better dwell in peace, prosperity, freedom, and unity.

For more on the history of Juneteenth, check out the following link: https://www.juneteenth.com/history.htm

Music for a Movement

Enjoy The Holiday with Music That Celebrates the Concepts of Juneteenth

La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton Word By Fire!

A Black History Month "Family Stories" Special!
  1. La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton
  2. Royan B in the Place To Be!
  3. No Entanglements. I Want God. This God.
  4. La Profesora's Word of the Week: FASTIDIOUS!
  5. La Profesora's Word of the Week

For Those in the Struggle: Juneteenth Edition


All ye people

Who are from peoples

Who’ve come from earth and bone

Who have worn sackcloth and ashes

Ye and they who are full of blood

And salted water

That stream from the most convenient


Lest ye think that the struggle is



Look around

At the flesh that surrounds

And know that we struggle together

For some among you will lead

And some will be led

As our ancestors were

Along the Ivory Coasts

In Jewish Ghettos

In Roman Prisons

Labor Camps

Internment Camps

Death Camps

In the Dens of Lions

Or lying with the enemy

They/We that struggle

And live

And die

And rise again

Today I think of one people

Who were in a struggle

A great fight

To stay Free

And then

To stay alive

And then

To win a war

And then

To survive the faux freedom

Inflicted by another people who struggled with

The fear of the newly falsely freed

Tied them to trees

Brought to their knees

For an eternity


The Divinity who saw the weeping and gnashing

Mixed up a recipe for men and women

Who seek to rescue and free other men and women and themselves (simultaneously keepers and liberators)

A New Movement of People

Who know that they

Are not greater that the

Divinity who made them

But through Powerful Divinity

They/We, those of us concerned with freedom from brutality and withheld equality

Those who see the importance of Equity

For those lacking the privilege that allows others to see

Full life and liberty

Still seek to alter the struggle

Of those whose spirits are distended

From the malnourishment of a diet lacking in justice

Replete in exclusion and isolation from the Dream

of all those who struggle, struggle to achieve

And lest ye flesh weary souls

Sick with the rejoicing of the victory forget

The captivation, humiliation, emancipation, no forty acres

(Just an observation)

Segregation, degradation, King’s motivation, some integration,

Lyrical, spherical, academic, vocational amalgamation

Lest ye forget

Forgetting creates a monster which is blind in its strike

Unbiased in its venomous bite

Despises the yellow, brown, black, and white

Cloaks in the tapestry of intemperate thought and speech

I must stop before I say what I cannot…

For all in the struggle

Learn from the struggle

Of all

Lest you struggle

In vain

Regina YC Garcia, Juneteenth 2020

And God Said…


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You don’t have to speak my language for me to love you. You don’t have to worship as I do for me to love you. You don’t have to be my shade, racial mixture, ethnicity, nationality for me to love you. You don’t have to love as I love for me to love you. You don’t have to be like me or like mine for me to love you.

I just have to love you.

A Start…

I see you trying while we’re dying

Weaving back and forth between the phrases

Your mouth may have never felt compelled to form until now

Wanting to say the right thing

(It is a start)

But when it comes out

Your flesh struggles to separate the years of “no need” from the apologies of the new day

Words fumble and jumble, and the need to protect your fear slides in to lessen the impact of your attempts

As well as the wind it took to push it forward

Your message received, but the relief flees when

Your words are regurgitated in the mouths of those who have believed

That it was awkward, unenlightened, insincere…

Those who have anxiously waited to believe that your years of disdain and flawed perceptions had totally shifted

While they were dying for change even as they buried their dead

Between tears and fatigue, they dwell on what you said

Analyzed and sighed that you still “don’t get it”

I see you, though

(It’s a start)

Keep going, and

Listen to the small voice that you’ve avoided

The one that buckles you in guilt and shame

Lean into its presence

It will give you what to say

It will tell you what to do

It will keep you from walking away

(It is a start)

This conciliation is for us all

It has to happen lest we all tumble and fall

If that be the case, we shall do nothing

Except hit the wall

So keep going

Keep trying

Yea, as we fight to stop

All of our dying

Hallowed Be Thy Name


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Hallowed Grounds: Sacred Sites of African American Memory

Hallowed Be Thy Name…

In my mind, there are sacred sites of striding and struggling

Striations of strain and strength 

In memories I once lived and those I inherited, I marvel at how they and I “made it over,” as if I floated in on the broken but braced backs of a superhuman ancestral brood…

For how on earth, Heaven, or hell could I have moved clay lips to laugh, lie, cry, love, preen, protest, speak life, and dodge death…

And I’ve come to realize that these sanctified places of terror, trial, and triumph are ordered in my thoughts, a reminder that true freedom is always bought with a price of great sacrifice and and justified only through an ointment  of redemption

And so the Spirit moved among these places

Gave a massaging message while they were moaning while in manacles

Hallowed be thy name…

Inspired  their holy dance while in deprivation 

Hallowed be thy name…

Gilded the Grace that would carry them

Hallowed be thy name…

Answered prayers whispered only in their thoughts

Hallowed be thy name…

Cloistered me in an ancestral seed

Hallowed be thy name…

Birthed me on a bank of better 

Hallowed be thy name

Reined in my reckless

Hallowed be thy name

Gave me strength to fight the feckless 

Hallowed be thy name…

The Spirit has moved in many times and places, yet today can be seen in faces of those who know in their hearts that they are but a small part of a greater plan and can still cry “Hallowed be thy name…” in wholly fickle lands

Regina Yvette Carter Garcia

I am Regina Yvette Carter Garcia, daughter of Evelyn Jean Simpson Carter, daughter of Bessie Lee Teel Adams Simpson, daughter of Carrie Teel Adams, daughter of Margaret Carroway Teel, daughter of Cinda Woolard Carraway.

A powerful lesson that my grandmother Bessie Simpson taught me during a time that I was having a crisis of faith was that whatever I believed had to be something that I knew for myself. I needed to be able to see it proven in my life. She never told me that I had to believe what other people told me, to believe one ideology or another, but to believe what I saw working in my own life. Then she shared her testimony with me. It rocked my world! As I applied and tested, my faith in my Divine Power grew stronger…Everyday, I praise my God for who and what she was in my life.

On Moldy Minds and Mal-Intended Monuments…


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Pitt County Confederate Soldier Monument located in front of the Pitt County Courthouse, Greenville, NC
Removal of a Confederate Monument in North Carolina

In Those Old Temples

I hear there is fear

Those who desire to stay

And even watch some be  slayed

From the comfort of their chairs

Saying there are “bigger fish to fry”

Than a rock, a piece of stone, let alone

Should anyone risk life, limb, or reputation

Trying to remove the bastions of our “Southern Nation” 

That repressive obsessive Confederation 

Never moving foot nor fingers nor pen to protest

In those old temples

Mouths form and rhetoric spills

Wrapped in ideas, overly pedantic and frantic

Expressing the fear

of what one word beyond the status quo will mean

Frightened by revolutionary freedom fighters and Tiki Torcher dreams

Glued to couches and computers focused on screens

And overly concerned about what this insistence means

And what friends will think from post, comment, or like

Lurking silently, watching the gory

 Existing in a land of double-minded glory

In stasis, hopefully never to be perceived as liberal revolutionary or racist

Sitting in those old temples

Afraid that the upheaval of the believers will create a confusion 

Based on the conclusion that a collusion of ideas 

Will tear down some peaceful salvation

But salvation cannot exist with justice

Especially if the justice to be had is not withheld from everyone-Just Us

In those old temples

There is a fate worse than death

It is the sacrifice of a brilliant afterlife

All because we couldn’t love each other enough to stomp out each other’s strife

So in a New Temple of Societal Sanctification

Fear and these manmade monuments must die

For in the words of my elders, “God can’t use no coward soldiers”

And we all have gifts enough to spare to make this world aware 

After the dust settles

In a New Temple…

These monuments must lift up

Reformed, Repurposed, Re-stationed

So that my God, creator of all mankind, can show us a new nation

In a New Temple…

Therefore I am charged to  walk in my calling, as you are in yours

Daughter of Griots and Healers

Born from empathic feelers

Down through generations 

From both those who received and offered degradation

In a New Temple…

We come

Prophets offering

Truth and pointing towards redemption

Whispering Incantations of inspiration

Rituals to rise

Pouring sweet libations

As we melt down Hate’s desperate cry

In a New Temple…

We moan a litany of love

Poured from our lips over

Monuments of stone

And rigid concrete minds

Those that force us into dark corners, all alone

In a New Temple…

 Those mausoleums in human form

 That were built and maintained from fear and formed to despise

Me, any of my brothers, my sisters, my family, my friends, mankind

Who have screamed out “I matter! We matter”

And wallowed in vain

Will finally feel a valued part of the land in which they remain

In our New Temple

We grind down ashen rock into into dust 

And then love it back together

Shaped in renewed mind and spirit

A picture of forever

In the New Temple

We dream it

We speak it

We walk it

We believe it

We protest it

We contest it

We pray for it

We live it

Go down, broken clay pot

And arise again

Something different

Something new

New legacy of freedom, justice, equality, unity

We protest until you do

We protest until you do

Regina YC Garcia

Word By Fire

La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton Word By Fire!

A Black History Month "Family Stories" Special!
  1. La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton
  2. Royan B in the Place To Be!
  3. No Entanglements. I Want God. This God.
  4. La Profesora's Word of the Week: FASTIDIOUS!
  5. La Profesora's Word of the Week

La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton Word By Fire!

A Black History Month "Family Stories" Special!
  1. La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton
  2. Royan B in the Place To Be!
  3. No Entanglements. I Want God. This God.
  4. La Profesora's Word of the Week: FASTIDIOUS!
  5. La Profesora's Word of the Week

On Flesh Temples of Self Loathing…


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I know that I am at least one day late and about $5 short in regards to a weigh in on Candace Owens. A few reasons for that, the primary one being is that I didn’t know who she was. My faith system doesn’t carry me in her direction. I don’t know her mama an’ nem, and I don’t watch much religious media programming. My spirit can’t roll with all of the masked agendas. However, since I had more than one person inquire regarding my thoughts, I decided that I needed to go back and watch her video so that I can speak intelligently.


I don’t even quite know how to begin except to say that hearing her say George Floyd was not an “amazing” person, to hear her indicate the black community panders to the “least common denominators” within their communities made my stomach turn, and that, outside of anything else she has to say, tells me these things:

  1. She is not to be taken as a spokesperson for the black community. This is not because she is not black. Certainly she is.

However, she is not adept at explaining the black condition. Why this is the case, I can’t explain with certainty. Perhaps she is operating in a shame of black association. I don’t know her childhood, her experiences, her rejections. I’m not sure if she, on occasion bore the “Oreo” label (Smart kids, that’s a tough label. I know. I’m good, though). I don’t know if she is taking out her revenge on some culture of poverty that she escaped by flinging around a “bootstrap mentality.” I’m not even sure if she is emotionally repaying someone who insists (overtly or implied) that she continue the oppressive narrative of the generational carriers of the colonizers’ mindset. I don’t know what promises or gold stars await that would prompt or enable her to condemn the situationally unarmed incapacitated dead.

  1. Conversely, I don’t know who accepted her in her development, whether the acceptances were conditional or unconditional. I’m not sure if someone or someone(s) told her, showed her, or implied that if she promoted the narrative of the racially-based class apologists she could get a pass that would propel her up the structure.
  2. All I know is that some itching ears were just waiting to have an excuse to ignore the societal imperative of equality, equity, and protection under the law, as well as “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” for all people, in particular black and brown people carelessly “handled” by those within the government and justice systems.

Some of them who waited call themselves Christians. They were waiting to hear from other folks who call themselves Christian to give them a Christian word, as opposed to looking at what the teachings of Christianity espouse.

They were waiting, and then…

She handed them a box of bullets.

Bless her heart.

All that I know is that the Bible consistently conveys that “we are our brother’s keeper,” “not one is without sin,” “all praises belong to God,” “all flesh is grass.”

All that I know is that none of us is “amazing” all of the time.

All I know is that we need to stop looking for reasons not to treat each other right.

All that I know is that idol gods take many forms.

All I know is that worshipers of self abound and tear down.

All I know is that the meek matter, the oppressed matter, the poor matter, the caged matter, and…

Black Lives Matter!

I’m telling you this because I want you to get it right, whoever you are because #YouMatter

Come on now! You better let God into your heart.

You know. Real God.

Black Thought…

Just a thought…a Black thought…my Black thought 

What if Black was unconfined, 

Not restricted, soul, body, and mind?

And what if Black could see itself 

With all of its glory waving, issues unshelved?

And what if Black could escape the box

The one with all the indiscernible locks

And whisper chains secured ’round maintained by those yet free and those still bound by those without and those within, jailers and wailers, sanctified and full of sin, standing close and afar while they moan and grin?

What if the flesh asylums fall, 

the ones built to  keep Black beyond the wall?

What if every Black Gift ignite

Oh what a sight! What a sight

That would be!

If Black could give creativity free

And still could live life unfettered?

Oh peace be!

Slay the flesh!

Find the key!

Regina YC Garcia