RIP Kim Porter
- Thread starter HotNixon36
- Start date
Nobody's fault at all. How you handle situations will determine your health and stress level.
Comic book dude touched generations of people globally by showing them through his medium that it was okay to be different and one's uniqueness is a power in and of itself.
This chick was a coke head who so happen to fuck and had kids by P-Diddy & Al B Sure and even then I would've not known who she was if she ran into me on a street corner wearing a name tag saying who she was. I'd have to Google it.
Read into that what you will....
*two cents*
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I warned people to step up your security and awareness. Leave the country if you do not need to be here. Some whites are having a psychotic break, talking crazy. In these times, no telling what happened.
Being a coon, validating their anarchy creates more problems. Tell them they are crazy and get the fuck away from you.
Being a coon, validating their anarchy creates more problems. Tell them they are crazy and get the fuck away from you.
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always felt she was the ONE that PUFF REALLY LOVED above all the other women in his life.. 47 yrs 
Nah something ain't right...
I thought women was supposed to outlive men..
Sis gone waaay too soon
RIP
I thought women was supposed to outlive men..
Sis gone waaay too soon
RIP
An official cause of death has not been revealed but she was stricken by cardiac arrest at noon after suffering from pneumonia for several weeks.
https://www.ledger-enquirer.com/news/local/article221733335.html
https://www.ledger-enquirer.com/news/local/article221733335.html
You sound like trump with your...I'm going to fully agree with you fam AND stand by my statement because...
...this is BGOL
Fucked up shit is typed devoid of -or inspite of- context everyday B....
Whole bunch of good natured people get ripped to shreds just off G.P. on here everyday.
"Just cause it's your boy in the crosshairs don't change things..."- BGOL
*two cents*
There are good people on both sides
If you or anyone else don't like BGOL and it's recklessness- and RECKLESSNESS is the ethos of this place by the way- you can log off at anytime.
Not my problem that you - or anyone else- is in their feelings. The trump dig eludes to that...With your "Oh it's only funny until it isn't " having ass.
But don't trip, next thread someone will say something extremely fucked up about someone you don't fuck with -who if you got to know them was probably a decent person- and you'll laugh....I PROMISE.
WHICH IS...MY POINT.
Have a good day.
*two cents*
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Had it one year ago, was in the hospital for 5 days. Tried to sleep that shit off and was up 3 days straight before I enter the hospital. Thought the shit was just a cold, after I recovered it felt good just to even run again! I felt like a dog sticking his head out of a car window.
Where did you get this dumb logic from? Anybody can die at anytime their number gets called it don't matter if you are male or female at whatever age.
stay in you lane boy... you know yo arms too short to box with god... get back to sellin them peanuts boy...
https://slate.com/human-interest/2018/01/why-women-outlive-men-even-in-the-harshest-conditions.html
"Based on current life expectancy tables, a typical girl born in the United States today will most likely live until she is almost 87 years old — nearly four years longer than a typical boy born in 2018."
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/06/business/women-men-longevity-retirement.html
that sucks man...
pnuemonia is a dangerous bitch...I had it when I was a kid...just thought it was a cold but it ended up lasting too long and my folks took me to the hospital.
discovered that it was pneumonia and my lungs were almost filled with mucous and had to be drained. If i had stayed at home, my lil ass would've likely died
caused me to have an irregular heart beat until this day.
RIP to this Sista....gone way too soon
@ smfh at all the ignorant mufuckas with conspiracy theories and Drug use assumptions....
You given me a link that was probably created by someone full of shit that don't know shit from a can of beans.
Foh.
It was a joke bruh. But I’m glad you got a chance to get all that off your chest.If you or anyone else don't like BGOL and it's recklessness- and RECKLESSNESS is the ethos of this place by the way- you can log off at anytime.
Not my problem that you - or anyone else- is in their feelings. The trump dig eludes to that...With your "Oh it's only funny until it isn't " having ass.
But don't trip, next thread someone will say something extremely fucked up about someone you don't fuck with -who if you got to know them was probably a decent person- and you'll laugh....I PROMISE.
WHICH IS...MY POINT.
Have a good day.
Niggas and they faux morality policing are the fucking worst! "Honor and respect the dead." how about honor and respect them while they were alive?
*two cents*
Comic book dude touched generations of people globally by showing them through his medium that it was okay to be different and one's uniqueness is a power in and of itself.
This chick was a coke head who so happen to fuck and had kids by P-Diddy & Al B Sure and even then I would've not known who she was if she ran into me on a street corner wearing a name tag saying who she was. I'd have to Google it.
Read into that what you will....
*two cents*
I don't know much about her business other than her being one of Diddy's baby moms but is this just word on the street that she was a coke head? Or is there a legit source that she was a big drug user?
RIP to the sista
It's word on the street...
However several people in this thread individually came to that possible conclusion- one being @tallblacknyc whose from New York and is probably a couple of handshakes away from the chick himself.
Plus, there have been numerous accounts of her drug use that one doesn't have to search past Google to find.
So while she never came forward and claimed she had a problem...there's a lot of stuff out there that she was into white girl.
*two cents*
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Like Many Black Women, Kim Porter Was Under a Doctor’s Care and Still Died. That’s Terrifying
To prepare for the expected birth of our second child next month, my wife and I are enrolled in one of those new-age birthing classes where the bulk of each two-hourlong session is devoted to language and connotation. (“Don’t say birthing canal. Say birthing
stream, because streams are calming.”) I am bored out of my mind during them, but its main value is to make the childbirth process less stressful, and it has been helpful with that. The instructor speaks as if giving birth should be like passing a tiny bit of gas and her eerie calm about everything is contagious.
My wife and I have also devised a plan for when she goes into labor. We have a collection of birthing bags, a list of trusted and vetted emergency contacts and a day-of script with a level of detail that rivals a football coaches’ playbook. We are also privileged enough to have a house with enough space to be comfortable, two cars, multiple family members and friends within a 10-mile radius and generous health benefits. And we are both college educated. And we are both (*knocking on wood*) healthy. And we are both aware that we are both in possession of all of these things, and this knowledge is empowering. Neither of us is intimidated by doctors or nurses or hospitals or any other layer of medical authority. We will question, we will probe, we will cast doubt if things don’t seem right.
And yet, I am still scared to death.
There are limitations to this privilege we wield, this preparation we’re equipped with and this knowledge we possess. Neither of us is a medical professional, and when my wife goes into labor, we will have to place a measure of trust into a collective that, in regards to black women, has not earned it. From the moment she enters the hospital, the life of my wife—who happens to be a black woman in America—will be in danger.
We will hope that the nurses and doctors who see her will treat her with the utmost care and professionalism, and we will do everything within our power to ensure that. But our power is limited. And these limitations exist in concert with a profession that collectively and historically offers substandard and life-threatening service to black women. Black women are over three times more likely to die from being pregnant than white women. Black people are systematically undertreated for pain. And sometimes our pain is outright ignored.
We know how Serena Williams, one of the three or four most famous black women in the world, almost died after childbirth because a nurse didn’t take her pain seriously. We know now the story of Kira Johnson, who was just as healthy and privileged and empowered as my wife is. Who went to all of the prenatal appointments, like my wife does. Who had a husband beside her, like my wife will. And who delivered in a world-renowned hospital, like my wife will. And who still died after a treatable post-delivery complication because the doctors just took too long to act.
And although Kim Porter didn’t die from childbirth, a seemingly healthy 47-year-old black woman dying from pneumonia worries and angers and scares the shit out of me, too. If black women like her and Serena fucking Williams are still susceptible to death while in a doctor’s care, what about my wife? How susceptible is she? How vulnerable is she? How terrified should we be?
Our next birthing class is next Friday. I think there’s one more after that, and then we’re done. My wife is as bored with the classes as I am, but she tolerates them, because she wants to be as prepared for delivery as possible, and more preparation means less stress. We’re doing what we can to make this a safe and healthy process for her. I just hope it matters.
To prepare for the expected birth of our second child next month, my wife and I are enrolled in one of those new-age birthing classes where the bulk of each two-hourlong session is devoted to language and connotation. (“Don’t say birthing canal. Say birthing
stream, because streams are calming.”) I am bored out of my mind during them, but its main value is to make the childbirth process less stressful, and it has been helpful with that. The instructor speaks as if giving birth should be like passing a tiny bit of gas and her eerie calm about everything is contagious.
My wife and I have also devised a plan for when she goes into labor. We have a collection of birthing bags, a list of trusted and vetted emergency contacts and a day-of script with a level of detail that rivals a football coaches’ playbook. We are also privileged enough to have a house with enough space to be comfortable, two cars, multiple family members and friends within a 10-mile radius and generous health benefits. And we are both college educated. And we are both (*knocking on wood*) healthy. And we are both aware that we are both in possession of all of these things, and this knowledge is empowering. Neither of us is intimidated by doctors or nurses or hospitals or any other layer of medical authority. We will question, we will probe, we will cast doubt if things don’t seem right.
And yet, I am still scared to death.
There are limitations to this privilege we wield, this preparation we’re equipped with and this knowledge we possess. Neither of us is a medical professional, and when my wife goes into labor, we will have to place a measure of trust into a collective that, in regards to black women, has not earned it. From the moment she enters the hospital, the life of my wife—who happens to be a black woman in America—will be in danger.
We will hope that the nurses and doctors who see her will treat her with the utmost care and professionalism, and we will do everything within our power to ensure that. But our power is limited. And these limitations exist in concert with a profession that collectively and historically offers substandard and life-threatening service to black women. Black women are over three times more likely to die from being pregnant than white women. Black people are systematically undertreated for pain. And sometimes our pain is outright ignored.
We know how Serena Williams, one of the three or four most famous black women in the world, almost died after childbirth because a nurse didn’t take her pain seriously. We know now the story of Kira Johnson, who was just as healthy and privileged and empowered as my wife is. Who went to all of the prenatal appointments, like my wife does. Who had a husband beside her, like my wife will. And who delivered in a world-renowned hospital, like my wife will. And who still died after a treatable post-delivery complication because the doctors just took too long to act.
And although Kim Porter didn’t die from childbirth, a seemingly healthy 47-year-old black woman dying from pneumonia worries and angers and scares the shit out of me, too. If black women like her and Serena fucking Williams are still susceptible to death while in a doctor’s care, what about my wife? How susceptible is she? How vulnerable is she? How terrified should we be?
Our next birthing class is next Friday. I think there’s one more after that, and then we’re done. My wife is as bored with the classes as I am, but she tolerates them, because she wants to be as prepared for delivery as possible, and more preparation means less stress. We’re doing what we can to make this a safe and healthy process for her. I just hope it matters.
No need to tear the girl down after she's dead.
What's wrong with you playa? You need a woman in your life, don't give up.