I respect those who defended my name when I wasn’t in the room.
Those who stood their ground, even when no one else would—
even when the table was set with bitterness,
and the conversation was laced with venom.

Because at that table,
respect was no longer served.
Only mockery, judgment, and twisted tales.

But I saw the difference—
between those who threw dirt
and those who kept their hands clean,
who honored my name with silence or truth,
not with gossip soaked in pride.

So I say this with no bitterness—
thank you.
To the ones who held my name with dignity,
even when I wasn’t there to witness it.

And to those who acknowledge my presence,
who don’t shrink me in person
after growing me into a monster behind my back—
I see you.
I remember.

Respect isn’t begged. It’s earned.
But gratitude? That, I give freely—
to those who respected me,
both in presence and in absence.