Who are you really?

Everybody hates the repo-man. To be honest, I hate myself sometimes too. Does it get any worse than repossessing material goods from your own community? You’d be surprised how much worse it gets. Getting my hands on the item - lifting cribs from under a crying baby, dismounting a TV from a family room in the middle of Family Feud, unplugging a microwave from the wall of an apartment without an oven - is the easy part. The guilt and shame can tear you up inside. But eventually, it hardens you and just becomes part of the job. Regardless, no one should have to live the way I see every day on my repossession routes. Detroit used to be a financially thriving chocolate city that suburban white folks were afraid to visit. Today, when I watch the local news, I keep hearing about abandoned homes, shootings, violence, drugs, and how “the art scene in Detroit is thriving” and “how beautifully they’ve cleaned up downtown.” Detroit, Motor city, the birthplace of Motown, used to provide jobs with benefits to so many black families. Today, chocolate city is more like a vegan, almond milk shake… And what niggas do you know that can afford almond milk? The well of Detroit’s economic opportunities had long-since dried up for many of the native Black residents. I hear them talk more and more about Tulsa these days on CNN and the bloody riots where bitter jealous white folks burned down “Black Wall Street.” But when I look around my city, I see pitchforks, tiki torches, and baseball bats in the hands of my nervous, smiling white neighbors.  

I don’t blame poor Black folks for giving up all together. The community we once knew - the churches, the schools, and the skating rinks - they were all gone. Replaced with bouldering gyms, co-working spaces, and coffee shops. Hell, I don’t even blame folks for stealing and robbing whatever slice of dignity they can find, including dining sets and microwave ovens. This was our city, and suddenly it was gone. Look at me: I went to UMich to be an engineer. I never imagined I’d be an goddamn repo man. But the student loans weren’t gonna pay themselves and I had to get back on my feet after the first recession. By the time I found my footing, my degree was practically worthless without work experience. Then the pandemic hit. Folks got real excited about those first stimulus checks but by the time booster shots were out, furniture repossession was one of the most booming businesses around.

Needless to say, I see some pretty wild shit on a regular basis. The worst of it? Postmortem repossessions. Usually, the family will come through and claim (steal) the items they want leaving me with zero commission. But opening the door to Apt #D5 on East Lake Ave, the smell alone would’ve stopped anyone in your tracks. The coroner had removed the body, but blood stained the walls, the $500 faux leather sectional, and the $900 Macbook (both with interest and overdue payment fees). The sofa was done for, but it was my job to see if the Macbook was still salvageable.

Hey fam! It’s your boy Kah-Malik-Oh. To those of you who’ve been rocking with me from day one, welcome back. For those of you that don’t know me, know that I am a bronze-skinned, Aboriginal American Chieftain of the Lu-Noha-Arik Nation. Rightful heir to the land, untaxed. I dare you to try me, because I’ll come back at you with the straight truth!

Just wanted to give y’all some updates on my custody battle. As most of y’all know, I was denied custody of my daughter Ashley Alin-Akua-Oha back in 2017.  For those who don’t know, her mother moved to a new state and has been fighting for years to keep my daughter away from me over some petty shit. You can watch my old videos for the details. I met my ex during the BLM protests in 2014. I used to think I was really woke back then. Like we were gonna change some shit forreal. I’d be at the protests with my little “Black Live Matter” t-shirt holding it down. But when my girl got pregnant and wanted to move out of Detroit to raise our daughter closer to her parents, nobody stood up for me. None of them BLM sell-outs gave a fuck about the struggles of Black fathers. In Flint, kids were drinking poisonous water ending up in hospitals and where was BLM? They wasn’t doing any real work for struggling Black families.

I used to work for the post-office back then but I was so messed up over losing my daughter that I could barely get out of bed in the morning. They suspended me and, honestly y’all, it was the best thing that ever happened to me! I’d lay in bed watching Youtube videos on the truth behind BLM. I would go from one video to the next uncovering the secrets of the so-called movement. See BLM has always been about emasculating Black men. They care more about trans people and the gay agenda than they ever did about Black families. They don’t care bout nothing but collecting donation money to put into the production of social media content to indoctrinate our kids into homosexuality… and I’m the one losing my daughter?? The shit is fucked up. Did you know that Alicia Garza is dating a fifteen girl?? Look that shit up! I’ll drop the link to the video in my bio. The shit is sick fam.

I always knew there was something up with BLM. There were so many videos dropping truth… but the comment section was where shit really popped off. I met some real smart brothers who were just as angry as me. When I told them about my custody case, they told me the law would never respect me as a US citizen. Especially as a so-called “Black American.” I needed to renounce my citizenship & corporate status to the USA and declare my nationality as an Aboriginal American - the original people of this land. But if the shit was easy everyone would be doing it, ya feel me? So I got connected with this brotha Kudi. Brotha Kudi… is the real deal! Kudi studies the laws, he knows and knows the truth of this nation.

You know, I always knew shit was off. There was no way that the system wasnt rigged against me… against us bronze-colored people! All this time I thought it was racism but it’s so much more insidious than that. Got fools out here believing that we’re the descendants of enslaved Africans protected under “the color of the law.” Wake up! If you do your research (or watch my video from Oct 2018), you’ll learn that the constitution was revoked over a century ago. During the Civil War, the illuminati, the masons, and other white elites set up a new shadow govt “The Corporate United States of America” to replace the old one with the constitution and the social contract and all that. Sheep out there will have you believe this is a conspiracy theory, but if you study the War Powers Act, it’s obvious! Your little birth certificate doesn't grant you rights, it’s just proof of your financial slavery to the America corporation. There is no racism. There are no races. There’s financial slavery. And as long as you’re attached to your labels of your own oppression, you doom yourself to death. It’s as simple as that. To truly free yourself you’ve got to undertsnad the law and you need to know who you really are. Not the story white elites or BLM radicals want you to believe.

I’ve been studying under Kudi for three years now. I’m at the weekly lectures, in the Whatsapp groups, and moderate the comment sections of our nation’s Youtube channel.  Brother Kudi and everyone in the nation helped me more than any of those BLM gender queer radicals. We examined the etymology of legal code to unlock the TRUE MEANING of the law. Before I met other Aboriginal Americans online, I used to believe I was Black. But the etymology of Black means the absence of light. Most people don’t understand that language is as powerful as a magical spell and the law fixes those spells into power. What do you think they're doing in those Masonic temples that none of us can enter? When elites decided to call us Black they doomed us all to hell on Earth! And like fools, y’all go around talkin bout “I’m black & I’m proud” “Black lives matter” How can black matter??? It is absent of matter and light!

They called us niggers and you made it into a term of endearment. They gave us an ounce of freedom after the Civil War and uppity niggers wanted to be called Negroes! At least colored was etymologically accurate, but then y’all had to insist on being African-Americans! Which of y’all is African?? I know I aint!

Everyone wants to tell me that we Bronze-Colored Aboriginals are the descendants of African slaves… Look at me and look at an African! We don’t look nothin alike! Africans want nothing to do with us but y’all over here begging to be African. If you look at the law, they stopped importing slaves in 1808, so how are we all supposed to be descendants of Africans? All these Africans supposedly brought along the middle passage and I’ve never seen a slave ship in my whole life! How sway?? I’m not saying slavery never happened… in fact, those Siberians that they call Native Americans enslaved our aboriginal brothers & sisters but they don’t teach you that in history class… but I am saying that the numbers are inflated. Look at a old ledgers from plantations. You don’t see numbers counting Africa enslaved. It’s all made up! And we bought it! We’ve been here the whole time and if we all rise up and claim our true identity as Aboriginal Americans they can’t deny us.

What is Black culture but a way of locking us into mental and financial slavery??

Do I identify with black Americans?? Hell no! I DIS-identify with those fools! They don’t do nothing but talk shit and beg for crumb from the government. How about claiming your own sovereignty and taking power into your own hands. Try that!

Sorry y’all, I get fired up about the truth. Some of y’all are afraid to say, but I aint scared. Trust that!

Anyway… after constantly fighting with my co-workers who refused to face the truth, I quit my job and committed to learning the true meaning of the law. It was the only way I was gonna win my daughter back.

A few weeks ago I stepped into the courtroom before the judge with Black’s Law Dictionary in my hands to let them know I wasn’t playing around. I know Kudi didn’t think I was ready, but I think it went well! I outsmarted them on some aspects of the law and let them know what was really up. I trust that I’ll be reunited with my daughter soon!

[At the court] 

Kah-Malik-Oh: My name is Kah-Malik-Oh. I am a bronze-skinned, Aboriginal American Chieftain of the Lu-Noha-Arik Nation and I am representing myself in court today.

Judge: Who are you really? Your criminal record states that you are Roger Mills Jr. An African-American man living in Detroit. And you are seeking custody over your daughter Ashley Mills?

Kah-Malik-Oh: I am seeking custody over my daughter, but the rest of your information is incorrect. I’ve renounced my US citizenship and claim my Aboriginal American status and my rights to the land that we currently stand.

Judge: “So you don’t identify as a Black-American?”

Kah-Malik-Oh: “Black?? Look at me! Do I look Black to you?? Do I look African?? My skin isn’t black, it’s barely even brown.  I am a bronze-colored Aboriginal American, native to this land.

Judge: “So you’re saying you’re Native American?

Kah-Malik-Oh: Sir, I’m sure that you are versed enough in the law to know exactly who I am. I’m not talking about reservations or casinos. Aboriginal Americans with wide noses, dark bronze-colored skin are the original people of this nation. I have read parts of the hidden text Masters of the Universe: The Creation of the Native by the Angel-Saxon, you’ll understand that these so-called native Americans migrated from Siberia and were exploited to but bronze-colored Aboriginals into bondage. I don’t want five acres and a damn mule. I want the whole damn country. And according to Black’s Law Dictionary section 924, you are obligated under the law to return my daughter to my custody.”

Judge: Mr. Mills, are you aware that there are currently three warrants for your arrest in the state of Michigan? Unlawful seizure of property, robbery, and unpaid child support. It is within the courts rights to arrest you right here in the courtroom.

Kah-Malik-Oh: Sir that is heresay. Black’s Law Dictionary section 237 states that a sovereign citizen cannot be arrested under wrongful claims of the Corporation of the United States. An arrest would be unlawful. If I am arrested I would be forced to charge you for every hour of this unlawful action.

Judge: Lucky for you Mr. Mills, the court’s jail is overcrowded. And on a full-stomach, your tirade has been mildly entertaining. Your custody appeal is dismissed and you will receive summons for your arrest in the mail soon.  Whatever you do, do not leave the state of Michigan. If you want the chance to ever see your daughter again outside of a jail, I would recommend consulting a real attorney and not your corner of the “sovereign citizen” Internet.

[end of court scene]

I have some other exciting news! I have another baby on the way with my queen Khala-Mo-Onik! If it’s a little girl we’re gonna call her Khalafia. By the time she’s born I should be re-united with my daughter Ashley. Hopefully we’ll all be starting our new lives together on our own land.

You know, I really love this community and what we’ve built together, but fuck man… I’ve never been so broke. Hahaha… My baby girl Khalafia… she deserve so much better than what I can provide for her right now. It keeps me up at night. I knew going to the court was the only way to claim what was rightfully mine. I know if this was easy, we’d all be doing it but someone’s gotta set the movement in motion and I trust that guidance of Kudi has secured me this victory in the courts. They’ll have no choice but to respect us.

I have so much hope for this little one, ya’ll. If we start her off young with the knowledge of self, without the bondage to the corporate United States, she’ll have a chance to make a much better life for herself. We won’t damn her to the inferiority of blackness or the slavery of a birth certificate. She’s not falling for the gay agenda or the crumbs of so-called Black Americans. She’ll walk proudly with the superiority of our her national status and her superior claims to this land. She’ll have these white boys shaking in their boots with every step. A true khalifa. She’ll be truly free. That’s all I could hope for.

I stared at the screen in shock, realizing the circumstances under which these blood stains covered the sectional, the laptop, and the walls. The anger, the hope, the self-righteousness were merely flotation devices to keep his head above the flood waters. Tucked beneath the laptop were three envelops from the city court. Unopened. The final piercing blows.

Had the fantasy dried up? Had the truth gotten to be too much? Or the lie too big? Whatever it was, he had no choice but to free himself. And in doing so left behind his girlfriend, born and unborn daughters, and his nation.