Cathartic – Echo R.S

Land of the Thieves, Home of the Hypocrites

If we’re going to talk about immigrants, let’s start with the original ones. The ones who stole land, rewrote the Bible in the image and still want us to believe they’re chosen to lead.

Native Americans have been living throughout the Americas for thousands of years. Europeans showed up claiming the land and saying they had every right because they were backed by the Doctrine of Discovery. What that is, is a religious/ political claim that gave Christian Europeans the “right” to take ANY non-Christian land “in the name of the crown”. They planted flags, reported back to “the crown” and received more money, people, and troops who set up colonies. Indigenous people were forced to convert to Christianity or labeled as savages and treated like animals. If they resisted, they were killed, enslaved, or forcibly removed. Europeans brought disease like smallpox and the measles and wiped-out Native populations who were ill equipped and slaughtered the rest.

If that wasn’t enough, the colonizers didn’t want to tend to the land they stole themselves, so instead forced indigenous people to do so and later trafficked African slaves through the transatlantic salve trade to join in as well.

Colonizers renamed rivers, cities, people. They brought European languages, governments, borders, and values. Erasing the history, religion, and identities of indigenous persons. Much of like what they do today with black culture.

Colonizers call us “minorities” to keep us in a cage. To remind us that we’re lower than them. Lesser than. That they are more capable of leading because of their genetics.

They believe they are closer to God when a lot of them don’t even believe in one. The very countries that colonized the world in the name of Christianity, reject the very God they used to justify their conquest.

Colonizers always claim to be “building a better world”. When in reality it has always been about power, profit, and control. Many wars and racial systems in place today are direct result of colonization. Think about that the next time you want to call someone an immigrant.

The Felon MAGA Follows

I have goals. Almost completely impossible ones—the kind that demand everything from me. Time, energy, sacrifice, relentless effort. But lately, I’ve been asking myself: what’s the point?

I live in a country where college security guards are being trained like ICE agents—because the students are considered the threat. Meanwhile, the man pulling the strings has been convicted of 34 felonies.

Thirty-four.

So why shouldn’t I just rob a bank? Why am I out here trying to do the right thing when it’s clear that doing the wrong thing gets you further? Trump has made openly racist, sexist, and vile comments. He’s told the world to “grab women by the p*y.” He stripped away DEI initiatives, which were created to address the very real biases marginalized people face on campuses and in the workplace. In one move, he made it even harder for people who don’t look like him to get anywhere in life.

He’s been connected to the Epstein files. You know, the ones tied to child trafficking on a private island—but nobody seems to care. He’s been impeached—twice. He’s been accused of rigging elections. And still… people vote for him.

At this point, I have to ask: Are y’all brainwashed? Part of a cult? Or just straight-up evil?

And the biggest joke? He still talks about immigrants like they’re the problem.

We’re all from somewhere else. Unless you’re Native American, you’re standing on stolen land. So who’s the real threat?

Let me be clear: There is nothing more dangerous in this country than a bored, powerful, entitled white man who feels humiliated. History proves it. From mass shootings to economic crashes to unjust wars—the pattern is there if you’re willing to look. But people don’t want to. They’d rather wear red hats and call it patriotism.

Where’s your humanity? Your empathy?

More of us have died peacefully protesting than you have for storming government buildings.

And yet you still think you’re on the right side of history?

Make. It. Make. Sense.

Think about what this world will look like for the generation after us. Your sons, daughters, nieces, nephews—do you really want them to grow up in the rubble of one man’s ego?

Or maybe, we really are too far gone.

When doing the right thing gets you punished

You know what’s crazy?

How you can do the right thing—and still get punished for it.

Yesterday, I had to work with the guy I reported to HR. He watched me walk in like nothing happened. I kept my head up, walked right past him like he didn’t exist. But I felt sick to my stomach the whole time.

What blows my mind is that another girl once said we didn’t get along, and they changed her entire schedule. But me? I report someone for crossing a boundary—and I’m still scheduled to work with him.

Make it make sense.

HR told me it was my fault because I gave him my phone. Mind you, he offered to help me. I thought he was being kind. But now I’m being told I should’ve known he was trying to go through my gallery?

So let me get this straight: if I leave work at 2AM and get attacked, that’s my fault too? Because I should’ve prepared for it?

Is it ever the attacker’s fault—or always the victim’s?

I’m not trying to play victim here. I’m trying to handle this like an adult. But this whole situation is absurd. I’m losing work hours now because they’re trying to schedule me around him—the one who violated my trust.

And just to flex, he removed me from the bartender group chat. No explanation. Just a silent reminder that he still has power over me.

This is exactly why women don’t speak up.

Because when we do, we’re met with silence, side-eyes, or worse—retaliation. This story is older than time. Women speak up, and the system tells us to be quiet, to move on, to “watch who we trust.”

But if I was someone’s daughter—his daughter—would this be okay?

Or is it only “my fault” because I’m just another outsider, another “girl who should’ve known better”?

Let’s talk about what “should’ve known better” really means.

Should I have known that a man offering help had ulterior motives? Should I have known that handing over my phone meant he’d invade my privacy? Should I have known that by trusting someone, I was “asking for it”?

Using their logic, would it be my fault if I got raped? Because my shirt was too short? Because I bent over to pick something up? Because I have a vagina?

This is what it looks like when a company protects its image instead of its people.

I spoke up. And REGAL CINEMAS retaliated.

Not the man who violated my boundaries. Me.

The same company that constantly brags about “valuing employees,” “supporting safety,” and “fostering community.” The same company that now wants to focus on me having my phone out—a rule no one enforces.

Even my boss said, “I don’t know why they’re focusing on that. Everyone is on their phone from time to time.” Then he turned around and called me “sista.” Like we’re good.

No. We’re not good.

You didn’t have my back. And now I’ve lost hours I need to survive. I have bills. I have responsibilities. I have a right to feel safe at work.

Instead, I feel exposed. Violated. Silenced.

All because I told the truth.

Now what am I supposed to do?

Continue working there? For men who don’t give a damn about me?

I don’t start my new job until the end of next month.

So do I stay?

Do I keep showing up to a place that’s shown me I don’t matter?

Do I endure the ache of uncertainty, the discomfort of being unseen, unheard, unsafe?

Crazy world we’re living in.

I didn’t think this happened in the real world.

All those trainings we took I thought it was for entertainment purposes. Oh how naive I was.

I can see why women stay quiet. But silence never was my calling.

Journal Entry #12

Started Off Great… Ended With Me Snatching My Damn Phone Back

Today started off like a really good day. One of those rare mornings where the sun hits just right and you’re almost fooled into thinking the good energy will last. I got up early for class—bright and early, which is already an accomplishment because I am not a morning person. I was running a little late, but I made it, sat down next to my usual partner, and was feeling okay… until the teacher decided to mix up the groups. Of course.

So I say goodbye to the person I’m most comfortable with and get placed with two people I’ve barely spoken to. Great. Side note: I used to think me and that original partner were aligned somehow, like something kept pulling us together for a reason—but now it feels like we’re being forced apart. Maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe I’m not. Who knows.

Anyway, the new group? One person was younger and hard to understand. The other constantly veered off topic like a damn podcast with no editing. And all I could think was, why couldn’t I just stay with my old partner? We actually had a rhythm.

But then the teacher assigns us a group activity—acting out different conflict styles. And suddenly, I’m back in my zone. I immediately knew I wanted to act out the competing style—you know, the one where it’s all about getting your point across with zero concern for anyone else’s feelings. Maybe it came to mind so quickly because I’ve seen that type up close and personal more times than I can count.

The teacher gives me the backstory, and I go in—I create a full script. The girl in my group, the one who gets off topic, is nervous, so I write her lines too. And guess what? The script kills. Everyone’s laughing, including me and my group, and I feel this surge of warmth. Like maybe today is gonna be one of those days where everything just aligns. Even if nobody else noticed that moment, I did.

I think there’s a guy in class who’s interested in me. I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining it—but it feels like we keep being placed near each other on accident… or not. He steals glances, speaks to me more than anyone else, and even walked me out after class. Told me about a great opportunity at a real estate office, which was actually dope.

But the thing is, he’s not really my type. He’s older, which is a plus. He was in the army—which I like. But physically? Not doing it for me. Shallow? Maybe. Honest? Definitely.

What really rubbed me wrong was when we were in class discussing the negative connotations of words in society, and this man—this man—blurts out “black.” I said excuse me?? He tried to backpedal with “oh I don’t know, I just heard that it is.” I shut that down quick. I told him that wasn’t going on the list and to forget about it.

Then he starts telling me about his culture—he’s Cuban—and for some reason assumed I could just look at him and tell. Like, no. When I asked, he literally said, “Come on, you can look at me and guess.” Nah. Then he tells me in his culture, they’re very discriminating—as if that’s something to be proud of. What even made him think that was okay to say?

Anyway. That’s the man who (unfortunately) has a crush on me.

Fast forward to later in the day—I head to work. I just had a great morning, but work always manages to humble me. First off, I applied to another job to get more hours and benefits. They finally called me back, and I went to orientation yesterday. But tell me why the next session isn’t until the end of next month. What kind of operation is that?

Still, I go into work in a good mood. But the customers? Slick. And my coworkers? Discouraging. I tell one I’m taking psychology because I’ve always been in love with the subject, and he hits me with, “You don’t need school for that. You can learn everything through experience.” Okay, philosopher. If he actually understood psychology, he’d know better.

They act like psychology only applies to counseling. Like I’m wasting my time if I’m not trying to be a therapist. But psychology is everywhere—it’s in journalism, marketing, politics, writing, society. It helps you understand what resonates with people, how behavior shifts, what people crave versus what they ignore. You learn how to read people, how to analyze. Even how to tell stories that stick.

Words matter. Words outlive us. And if mine can help even one person feel seen or understood, how is that not rooted in psychology?

But I wasn’t quick-witted today. I wasn’t expecting to have to defend myself after such a good start. And honestly? I wasn’t as assertive as I would’ve liked to be. I couldn’t think of anything clever in the moment. They planted this little seed of doubt in me—and I hate that I let it settle, even for a second.

And just when I thought the day couldn’t get more annoying, this guy from work is helping me set up my portal for the new job—because he works there too. I hand him my phone and this man says, “I saw your nudes, thanks for that.” I said give me my fucking phone, and snatched it back. Then he has the audacity to say, “Watch your mouth.”

Excuse me?

What I should’ve said was: “You bald-headed, broke, dusty, stank old man—don’t you ever in your life speak to me like I’m some little girl. Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

I locked my gallery. I checked that. You weren’t supposed to be browsing through my shit. You were supposed to be helping me sign up for my damn schedule. That crossed a line. Hard.

He jokes like we have this love-hate dynamic, but honestly? A lot of the guys at work sexualize me. And while, sure, it sometimes gets me free stuff, it also makes me sick. They visualize me naked, they objectify me, and I hate it.

This is the same dude that calls me a gold digger, which—boy, relax. You don’t even have gold for me to dig. He stays on my ass about not cleaning up every single night, like he doesn’t disappear from his post for hours while guests are waiting on him. And I don’t say a word.

He and his little crew talk behind my back like middle schoolers. Never about what I do right, just knitpicking the flaws. Never to my face. I had to hear I was doing something “wrong” from another manager, like they didn’t even have the guts to tell me themselves.

And don’t even get me started on the managers. Hiding in closets, on their phones, earbuds in. But I’m the problem because I didn’t mop one night? I’ve been there over two years. I know when I leave, they’ll talk about me like I didn’t do anything. Like I didn’t carry weight. Like I didn’t show up.

I’m just so over it.

I wish I could start this new job sooner and leave every one of them behind—let them rot in their little cliques, talking about everyone else, pretending like they’re better than they are. Miserable, insecure people who can’t see past their own limitations.

Let them talk.

I’ve got a vision—and they’ll never see it, because it wasn’t given to them. God gave it to me.

Silence Isn’t Weakness — It’s Strategy

Let me talk about these two girls real quick. Yes, both of them have made appearances on my blog before, and yes — they’re back again because apparently, they don’t learn. And trust me, I’m trying to keep it respectful, but these girls be trying it. And I really mean trying it.

Girl #1.

She had the audacity to hit my phone going off about a blog post like I was supposed to be scared of her. As if I wouldn’t rock her sh—anyway. I let that situation slide. Never even got an apology, but I’m not the type to hold hate in my heart. I thought we were cool. Cordial, at least. Especially since we share someone we both care about — someone who wouldn’t want to see us fighting.

She came to my birthday. We were cool. But I realized real quick — she’s one of those people who takes more than she gives. I wish my dog could see that. He’s a good man. Solid. He does everything he can for her, and it’s never enough. She’s ungrateful. A social media groupie who thinks she’s Latto, Megan, and Nicki rolled into one, with zero talent to back it up. Just a chicken head clucking on the timeline.

She said getting my dog a pinky ring for his birthday was “too much” and got him a PS4 controller instead. But when it’s her birthday? Valentine’s Day? Christmas? She expects the world. Cluck cluck cluck, that’s all she really knows how to do.

But it gets worse. She put her hands on my dog. Yeah, you heard that right. On a man who doesn’t deserve that. A good man. And the crazy part? When she got called out on it, she laughed. Like it was a joke.

I wasn’t there, but I saw the video. And I swear, the revenge fantasies I had? Jail-worthy. But I have too much to lose. And I know God’s going to handle what I can’t. Because if the roles were reversed, and he laid a hand on her, he’d be in jail.

And all this? Over a missed text? Girl, are you okay?

She blew up because he didn’t respond fast enough while he was with his day ones. Next day, he’s scrambling to make things right with her. And I’m over here like — I can’t even defend him if this is what he keeps running back to.

She doesn’t love him. She wants to own him. She confuses control with closeness. And I hate that I’ve been dragged into it. But I’ve been forced in — intentionally and unintentionally. So now I’m watching his choices in women create problems for me. And it’s tiring.

Now on to girl #2.

I work with this one — thankfully, not for much longer. Not because I can’t handle her, but because she can’t handle me.

We got called into work early one morning. I had just finished a shift at midnight and had to be back by 8. I’m walking up, tired, annoyed, and she’s standing at the door holding it open for everyone… until she sees me. And lets it close.

Like, girl — are you blind? Or just stupid?

She’s lucky I didn’t kick that door down with her walrus-built body standing behind it. But another coworker saw and let me in. I greeted her and walked right past Miss Flipper like she didn’t exist.

Later, during the meeting, I hear her gossiping about me to the same girl who let me in. And of course, the story’s one-sided. But I’m not one to go backwards. I had moved on — or at least I tried to.

Still, I won’t lie: I wanted to stand up and snap. Slap her across the mouth on some Will Smith time and tell her to, “keep my f-ing name out of your mouth” But again — I’ve got too much to lose. I can accomplish way more using my mind than I ever could with my fists.

Here’s the thing:

I’m not mean. But people are pushing me. Testing me. And just because I care — about loyalty, about love, about doing right — doesn’t mean I won’t call it how I see it. Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’ve got empathy and emotional intelligence — and that’s exactly why I choose silence over scenes, peace over pettiness, and growth over gossip.

I don’t need to get in anyone’s face. I don’t need to throw punches. Because writing is my punch. But just because I’m empathetic doesn’t mean I’m soft. Just because I think things through doesn’t mean I won’t call you out.

I’m not here to make everyone feel good.

I’m here to speak the truth.