Freestyling Through the Fire: A Reflection on Art, Race, and Resilience

 

The Brain (?) in a Coffee Shop ("Izzy's") in Asheville, NC (Circa 2019).
© 2025 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Dear Reader,

I'm up early eating my breakfast, sitting at the desk in my home office/studio that I worked hard to reorganize yesterday after being sent into a semi-panic that I couldn't (and still haven't) found my original high school diploma or college diploma. The thing that is eating me up is that I know both are around somewhere, but I have to look through things—packed-up things, things in my mom's garage—that will not only take time and effort but also energy.

I'm 34 years old as of this writing. Comparatively young, but also a bit seasoned. My experiences make it seem like I've already lived 60 years. I have endured too much of my own searching, of my own issues, to the point that I feel they have weighed on me over time.

Can I be real with you, dear reader? I am so upset that I was picked on, made fun of early on in my life for my clothes, my body, and how I acted. I was raised mainly by a community of women, and those qualities rubbed off on me. Instead of a man coming alongside me to teach me, I ran with other guys who, one could argue, were dealing with their own harmful influences at the time. I'm not saying the women were harmful, but what I went through—the bullying and being picked on because of my less-than-expected male actions at the time—caused me great stress. I still find myself dealing with the residue today. I overcompensate by being tough. I seek to be cold and unwavering when, in reality, I care and have feelings. Go figure, right?

I have battled these things, these concepts, for a long time. As an artist, I definitely battled them. In my experience, I mainly saw white males and Asians getting away with being artists—being eccentric, if you will. The Black artists I knew were mainly limited to music. I'm trying to get at something. I question the validity of being a Black American artist and being appreciated for my true work—not my work that rides a social media trend, not my work that carries a political agenda, not my work that is loud and out there and says, See me! See me! as I compete with other babies crying out for attention from Daddy God or at least someone mature enough to say, "There, there, little one; I see you. I hear you."

I'm also something of a poet, which is why I write the way I do. I write more from feeling mixed with thought, and I write it raw, unedited—at least at first. Then I go back in and clean it up. That's my approach to drawing and painting as well. And really, I am starting to see it in my business practice and organization too. I do not know how to escape this way of thinking.

I was sharing with my best friend last night that I think there may be something wrong with my brain. Years of experimenting have caught up with me, and I am suffering the consequences. It's not not a possibility, but I am really seeking to understand it, to get some kind of nice bow around my thinking and say, "Okay, it's ready to be presented now."

Where am I going with this?

You know, ever since discovering freestyling, it’s been a part of who I am as an artist. I usually don’t plan things out in advance. I usually have an idea and then freestyle off it. Like, I will continue to be real—originally, I was going to write this about DEI.

There is so much talk going on about what is happening with DEI. I will be honest, I do not understand it all. I know it is, in theory, for the inclusion of differently identified people. And I think the outrage is that an identifying white man in political power is moving in a direction to get rid of the programs at the federal level and corporate level. The idea is that these programs are unfair, in a sense, or cause division, while the argument is made that these programs exist because of historical unfairness and division—I drastically oversimplified it.

What am I getting at?

I'm trying to say something about how the arguing and power struggle itself is the thing, not necessarily the subject being argued over or caught in the middle of the power grab. I'm trying to say something about how we all have values, opinions, and a worldview. At least in the USA, a lot of the pushback is against white males in power because they represent the unjust, racist patriarchy—or something like that. And white men, generally speaking, are saying, We are not the bad guys. We are not ashamed to be white. We are proud to be white. And others are saying, We are proud to be Black, Jewish, Latino/a, Asian—we are proud to be anything that we are! And then they tell white men, Do not push your ideas and values on us. But, consequently, aren’t these other groups doing the same? Pushing their pride, values, and concepts? It’s a constant ideological war.

Even in religion, when I get to Jesus, some could argue that the Bible is a weapon that pushes its ideological agenda. Let me flesh that out a bit. Because the book is about the story of God, His chosen people—the bloodline of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—because the scripture is basically interpreted and argued over by Jewish people and is the most popular text in the world, it can be seen as pushing their ideas and values. Even Jesus, the most famous of them all, is hated by the world, and could be seen as pushing his agenda onto the world. He’s probably the most hated man to ever live for a multitude of reasons and associations.

My point is that the war is constant. But in the war, I want to serve as a sort of medic who helps the wounded warriors on all sides. A saint who seeks to understand and repair damage. I know the war will rage on. I know I’m in the middle of it. And I also know, quite frankly, my skin isn’t as tough as others’.

You remember earlier I was telling you that I'm a little more in touch with my feelings as a result of my nurturing, but I am also in touch with my reasoning and logic because I understand their value. Like everything in life, we learn it. It is conditioned. I wouldn’t know anything I am saying if I hadn’t picked it up somewhere, whether explicitly or implicitly.

I was getting at the fact that I may not be the best fighter or the best at arguing, but I have pretty good endurance, persistence, and will. Stubborn is the negative way of seeing it. But really, I am just good at getting back up when I get knocked down. Resilient. It may take some time. It may be an ugly process. I may cry, scream, say things I don’t mean, retreat into hiding to lick my wounds, but I come back and keep going. I may battle memory, regret, self-hate, and sabotage, but I don’t give in. Or when I do, I lick my wounds and keep going.

It’s like Jesus going to the cross—not literally, and I am not attempting to blaspheme the Lord—but what I mean is, Jesus endured all the hate, misunderstandings, being called crazy, being ridiculed, being the light in a dark world as the scriptures talked about. And yet, He loved, healed, taught, and shared His divine gifts—only to be chosen to be crucified publicly. He did good publicly and was embarrassed publicly.

If the Lord could not escape it, no one can.

So that is why I am more okay with writing like this. I may help someone along their journey. It certainly helps me to crystalize these thoughts. Some of these things I mean, some of them I wasn’t sure about until I wrote them down. Some of them are thought out and articulated the way I would like, and some are half-baked and not good. You could argue most of it is that way.

But I met my personal goal, which was to write a post that addressed the things I have been thinking about.

Now, I am going to eat my breakfast while the rest of the members of this house wake up and the birds sing a soft song in the background.

Before I go...

Lord God,

I write this prayer before I stop writing to ask You to bless the reader of this blog. Keep their mind protected and their heart full of Your love and wisdom.

I pray that they have the courage to stand up for what they truly believe in and not be silenced out of fear of being controversial or losing friends and family. I pray that You will aid them in pushing past the hesitancy to be honest with themselves and others.

Lord God, I know this prayer is public, so please forgive me. I am not doing this to be seen only, but to share the prayer with readers, that they may receive these words of prayer. That this public prayer to You, Lord, be used in a constructive way and that it bless the reader.

Now, more than anything, Lord, I pray that the reader comes to know You. I pray that they have an encounter with You, that they receive salvation from sin by the blood of Jesus and the grace of God. But I understand that not everyone reading, Lord, is a believer—that even me saying that may offend them—but it is what I truly want for those who want it and are not offended by it.

Lord, bless my Muslim brothers, bless my brothers involved in cults or identities that are seeking to find belonging. May we who follow You show genuine love and not superiority or rudeness that would turn them away from God. Help us to be sensitive and understanding to where they all are, and show love anyway.

Help us now in Your power, Lord. We are not worthy or deserving of anything in this life, and that is why we are grateful for everything. May Your angels and saints be with us. Thank You for Your Blessed Mother and women all around the world.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

So be it and Amen.

Take care, good people!