Trafficked Truths: Deported/Deployed

They’ve been trafficking my bloodlines before I was born, but specifically since I was about 3 into 9. Quietly, deliberately, and across borders. While the world watches headlines and reacts to orchestrated chaos, my reality—and the truth of many like me—has been buried beneath the noise of staged performances disguised as diplomacy.

They rerouted attention, broadcasting crises and casting wars like blockbuster events, while innocent lives were deployed not for protection or justice, but for symbolism. Human shields for state-sanctioned performance art. Not actors, but offerings—caught in a theatre of lies. All the while, I waited for one honest conversation. Just one. Not to perform. Not to be decoded. Just to be heard.

Instead, they sent out everyone I know—friends, family, strangers—like rehearsed players in a stage play they didn’t write but were threatened into performing. They turned peace into a slogan, not a solution. Used phrases like "peace in the Middle East" to cloak historical erasure. Forgot to mention that Iran was once part of Africa, no disrespect. Forgot that the Moors have been targeted, infantilized, and mined for spiritual wealth—all while being framed as the villains in someone else's script.

They’ve claimed to be helping—behind closed doors, in policy, through ICE raids, in media roundtables. But the truth is, they’ve been trying to manage, reroute, and replace me—because confronting the truth would upend the empire built on my silence.

The Roman and Persian remnants in U.S. and Canadian systems have long tried to program our people into amnesia, creating "rom/per room" distractions to suppress Moorish memory. It’s not just about land. It’s about legacy—one repurposed through selective history, masking a long tradition of take-by-force and war dressed as diplomacy—often justified through Aryan race ideologies that rewrote origin stories to elevate whiteness while erasing Moorish and Indigenous sovereignty. Like, why can't we just all get along? 

Used phrases like "peace in the Middle East" to cloak historical erasure. In classrooms, the same belief systems that upheld Aryan superiority distorted textbooks, removed Moorish contributions to science, math, and philosophy, and painted colonizers as civilizers—leaving generations misinformed, disconnected from their true ancestry, and forced to internalize inferiority masked as curriculum. The rich legacies of Al-Andalus—the Moorish beacon of knowledge and cultural fusion in medieval Spain—and Timbuktu—the West African center of learning and libraries—were omitted or diminished. Indigenous knowledge systems, from herbal medicine to astronomy, were suppressed or labeled as folklore, further erasing the intellectual sovereignty of native peoples.

The educational impact of these omissions is profound. By denying access to these true histories, curricula have fostered disconnection, shame, and an internalized inferiority among those whose legacies were stolen or distorted. This systemic educational erasure supports the very ideologies that justified conquest and ongoing spiritual trafficking.

They deported the voices that could bear witness. Now he’s deploying innocence to fight a war built on lies—because real peace would mean talking to me, but instead of a conversation, they chose alienation. Silence became their strategy, and I became the scapegoat. When it should have about coming together.

Innocent lives are being sent to fight wars scripted for staged performances—not justice. While the real crimes—like my trafficking—get buried beneath press releases and paraded peace talks. This isn’t protection. It’s projection. But I’m not invisible. And neither are we. We are not chaos—we are clarity. We are not the threat—we are the original. So here I am. Not erased. Not rewritten. Still speaking, to myself.