Mom Against Murder Alliance M.A.M.A 

I decided to create this group after my family suffered the loss of another loved one by the hands of someone I do not want to call human. I made this page in hopes of coming together with other homicide victim suvivors, who know what it feels like to be angry, sad, broken, lost, hopeless and the list goes on.

 I am not the mother of a homicide vicitim, but I am a sister, cousin and friend. My heart hurts for the mother’s, the mama’s, the women in my family, my friends and the women in the world  who loved their babies before laying eyes on them, the mama’s who nurtured  and cared for their children, the mama’s who did their best to raise their children to be the best version of their adult selves, these mama’s had a part of them ripped away from them in an instant by the hands of evil. 
M.A.M.A  is  place where homicide victim survivors can find solace, courage, peace, love and commonality at the most horrific time of your life.
 My hope is that we all can come together to stop and educate the community on murder by allowing the world to see the side effects of it. I want us to let the killers, the evil that walk the earth to know what they did to us. I want that thing to know that his goal to destroy was only done in the physical realm, we love with our hearts and soul and he did not kill that.
Typically, the world , the news, the community and sometimes, I’m sorry to say even our very own family and friends mourn with us for awhile, until their life happens, while yours/ours has completely stopped, broken, crushed and torn apart with us having little hope on repair. We need to make the world aware of what happens after the funeral is over and everyone is gone on with their lives. You are left with a womb that now feels barren, a broken heart, a crushed soul; your child was aborted from your life, killed and it’s not simple to just go back to living a normal life..
Please share your feelings, regardless to what other’s think. Please know it’s OK to feel, don’t let the killer keep you from feeling, from living and honoring your loved one. 
 Keep your loved one’s spirit alive by always  sharing, always talking and always remembering them. 
We can’t bring our loved one back, but we can make a difference in each other’s lives. There is someone who may need a friend like you, someone needs someone who walked this walk, let’s help them, let’s help each other. We can show the murderers that they did not kill our love for each other.
Take back what the devil stole, take your joy back and share it with someone.
I look forward to healing with you. Please feel free to post your stories, pictures, advice, post and share any thing your heart desires. Let’s stand together and make a change. Let’s put a stop to murder together.

This page is dedicated to Brandon Roberts and Melvin Paul Jr, both lives were taken by the selfish act of murderer and to all the homicide victims and their families, this page is dedicated to you as well.

A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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