tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76368740142652079622024-02-20T20:09:22.505+01:00The Unspeakable TruthTales from yu pikni...Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-58448146622619098622010-03-14T00:08:00.004+01:002010-04-02T16:59:33.598+02:00The Truth Has Been Told<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Life is filled with options and each one that we choose affects our lives in incalculable ways. I started this blog a little over a year ago in an effort to find a voice, something that had been long denied me. Having now found my voice and achieved the objective I had set I will discontinue writing on this blog.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Throughout this journey of self-discovery I have trapped myself in a depressing reality. I want the world to change to accommodate me, but it won't any time soon. I want people to respect me for the honourable individual I try to be, but they can't because they are crippled by their prejudices. So what do I do till the world changes to my liking, wallow in self-pity? That should never have been an option.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I accept myself for who I am. I love myself, and I am surrounded by people who love me. It is time I start living for me. All my life I've tried to take a stand against anything I find unjust. I've done whatever I can to jar the worldview of others, and help them realize that there is more to this world than their own conceptions of it. But why do I think this is important? Who am I to mount a crusade against an army of normativity and ignorance? I have become so obsessed with what is wrong with the world that I have forgotten to focus on what is important to me, finding whatever happiness there is to discover.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you are a regular reader of this blog, thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing these experiences with me, and thank you for providing words of comfort when I needed them most, or criticism when it was merited. For the gay Jamaican boy who comes across this blog by chance, remember to love yourself, knowing fully well that the only opinion about your self-worth that matters is your own.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This blog has served me well, and now it is time to move on to other ventures. I wish you all the prosperity that life has to offer.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">FP</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com90tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-17673197042577815422010-03-10T16:59:00.011+01:002010-03-10T17:14:37.061+01:00The Origin of Homosexuality in the Black Male<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I recently read the work of a Black college student in America, which suggested that homosexuality in black men is a legacy of the subjugation of the "African male" by White colonizers. I don't mean to simplify his arguments here, but apparently the colonizers were intimidated by the apparently more virile, robust Africans (with larger penises) and sought to emasculate them through enslavement, and through raping them. I never realized emasculation was a primary intent of slavery, as opposed to developing from it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I don't yet have enough knowledge to substantively disagree with this persons argument, but I have a few opinions I'd like to share. I do not believe that homosexuality has anything to do with lacking "manhood". As "manly" as African males were/are perceived to be, the occurrence of homosexuality is no less, or more, marked in African societies than it is in every other today. Surely there were/are cultural mores that proscribed homosexual behavior more stringently than in Europe (where there was some documented discussion about variance in human sexuality), but to suggest that (black) African people were entirely heterosexual before colonization is rather gratuitous. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Why would anyone want to convince themselves that they are gay because of the systematic emasculation of black men by europeans? Supposedly this subjugation continues today with global structures that perpetuate imperialistic relations between (black) Africans and their descendants, and the powerful, white West. So, I am to believe that my attraction for men is less essential than the attraction European gay men feel for other men, because the incidence of homosexuality in my lineage is nonexistent prior to the 17th century. Oookay. So then if it wasn't for colonization and slavery I would be straight like everybody else? Fuck the white man! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After responding to his essay this budding scholar was quick to remind me that "the truth is offensive". His claims are somehow credible because "he spends his entire time reading and writing, and has thought about the origins of homosexuality in Black men for months". Consider this "fact" that he reminded me of: homosexuality was considered a mental problem, but when alot of white people within the white collective started to come out of the closet, it was removed from the list of mental disorders. Oh really? I didn't know that. This entire time I thought it was removed because in fact gay people are not mentally ill. Obviously the development of a politically active (primarily white) gay community was crucial, but homosexuality was not removed from the DSM of the APA without due consideration of empirical data available. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are no homosexuals in Jamaica, or at least, there weren't any a few decades ago. It's tourism, American television, and the Internet that are eroding the moral purity of my Christian country. Bunkum and Balderdash! People need to stop recycling this misinformed and ignorant bullshit. It's scary what formal education can do to people who do only selective reading. </div></span></span>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com73tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-3026786244018460992010-03-07T12:40:00.007+01:002010-03-07T12:51:18.946+01:00Blackmail: Battyman Pay Mi, or Else...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Blackmail. It's a word we don't use very often in Jamaican Creole, and I can't now think of an equivalent word or phrase. In detailing the struggles faced by gays and lesbians in Jamaica few would mention the threat of blackmail, but the Jamaican situation, marked with intolerance and repression, nourishes this kind of crime. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A few months ago, one of my good friends from high school, we'll call him Michael, told me about how he was blackmailed. Like many Jamaican gays and lesbians he turned to the internet to try to find other queer Jamaicans. Michael happened across a popular chat-room in which one of the men took particular interest in him and hey eventually exchanged phone contact details. Through their phone conversations my friend became more trusting, and he mentioned casually what he was studying at a university and also the company he worked with. One day he was shocked when the tone and nature of the conversation changed. His online-buddy contacted an informant in the HR department of the company that he worked and uncovered his home address. This phone friend was not gay, and wanted to be compensated or else he would start telling people that Michael was gay. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Michael was terrified. What if this guy went to the apartment and told all the neighbours? What if he went to the university and posted signs? What if people at the company were to find out, would he lose his job? Michael refused to answer any more calls from this guy, but then the texts came flowing in... characterized by stinging homophobic epithets, among death threats, and a reiteration of the price to be paid to keep the prospective informant quiet. The attacks continued for weeks, and would only come to an end after Michael contacted the telecommunications provider, explained that he was being harassed and asked that the number of the attacker be permanently blocked. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The texts stopped coming. Michael breathed free. But he always considers that this unknown, malicious and opportunistic fiend knows where he lives, and could make another orchestrated attempt to corner him if her ever had the resources. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Michael's experience is not unique. I'm sure many other Jamaican gays and lesbians have suffered this fate. Crimes like these will continue so long as people have to remain closeted. Now we have one more thing to fear, besides the wrath of our intolerant families, or communities. Fear and intimidation are bitches. In fact, what proof did this man have that Michael was gay, besides some cryptic online screen name, and maybe a few texts from telephone number he assigned the name Michael he wouldn't have much damning information. But the idea of being outed is paralyzing, and it was under the grips of this paralysis that Michael suffered for weeks. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Online chat-rooms are not safe. You can never be assured of someone's purported identity, and should be careful about revealing personal details when using these media. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Take care,</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-56979029826996518692010-03-01T18:01:00.010+01:002010-03-04T02:10:35.322+01:00Coming Out On Facebook<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwljInpxPF5QmQeFkDPIexWKUvbL_aWixkzmHO4USB8eePXxKieJ6YHitxQbFLKHr3UsVV0-tjUuyHkLZv2IbYNRAOU_txWupKsscH2reotOQp7xMpTYvBGwVkrPppw_EFfwQLhB9h_2o/s1600-h/facebook+fiyu.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwljInpxPF5QmQeFkDPIexWKUvbL_aWixkzmHO4USB8eePXxKieJ6YHitxQbFLKHr3UsVV0-tjUuyHkLZv2IbYNRAOU_txWupKsscH2reotOQp7xMpTYvBGwVkrPppw_EFfwQLhB9h_2o/s320/facebook+fiyu.gif" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A few years ago when I opened my facebook account I opted to leave the "Interested In" field blank. I wasn't ready to tell the world that I was gay, and I wasn't going to lie that I loved women. One day after coming out to a friend she revealed that she always guessed I must have been gay, because I left the aforementioned field blank. She opined that no 'normal' Jamaican man would give up an opportunity to tell the world that he loves 'pum pum', if it were true... and also, that the fact of leaving it blank suggests that I thought about what it might mean, knowing fully well that it would raise speculations about my sexuality. She was right. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most straight people include this information in their profiles, even though one would already assume they are heterosexual. It never crosses their minds that the decision to complete this field might be troubling for some (facebook does a similar thing for gender that I dislike, having only two possible fields: "male" or "female"). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So the reality for gay or lesbian Jamaicans is grim; damned if they do and damned if they don't. It is completely understandable that many choose to lie by saying they are interested in the opposite sex. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I envy straight people for the ease with which they can declare their sexualities. Since I like to push boundaries I do the same, but I am sure my decision will not be without consequences. However, this is something that I have to do. The more we hide our sexuality, the uglier and scarier it becomes to us and others. Every time I saw the blank field I was reminded that I lived in fear. I worried about what people I cared nothing for would say, or who they would tell. It was a constant reminder of the shame I should feel for simply being a gay Jamaican. I refuse to continue living like that. </span></span><br />
<blockquote>"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." Dr. Seuss</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com70tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-24081643347005864442010-02-28T17:43:00.001+01:002010-02-28T17:43:44.031+01:00Dancehall & Reggae in France<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Geenie, wine up yuself..." Wait, are my ears fooling me? I turned to my professors and classmates and gushed that the song is Jamaican. It was the first day of classes and Mr Vegas was being blasted in the metro of one of France's biggest cities. Three weeks later I went to a reggae concert featuring Tarrus Riley, Duane Stephenson, I-Octane and Dean Fraser. While waiting for the concert hall to open I was entertained by a group of about fifteen men who had a music player that was belting Sizzla, Vybz Kartel, Movado, and Capleton. Inside, the hall was packed! And I fell in love with Duane's music. I was particularly moved by one of his songs about War, but I can't find it online. Queen Ifrica would be playing at the same venue a few weeks after.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A few weeks ago I visited the city of Montpellier. The main "park" around which the town is centered is La Place de la Comédie. One afternoon while on my way to visit a museum just next to La Place I distinctly heard Jamaican music being played in the distance- my ears are attuned to Dancehall/Reggae beats. There was an open air concert, and would you believe the specialty was Dancehall?! And I don't mean Sean Paul, or Serani. It was LOUD. The music dominated the park and could be heard by everyone in the town square. Beenie Man, Elephant Man, Movado, Baby Cham and you name it. My profs were a little disturbed because the walls of the museum were thumping with Dancehall beats. You should have seen the smile on my face.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then in Paris I was on the metro when I overheard a man singing along to a song from his ipod. "Gaza. Pan di Gaza. Pusi nofi sok pan di gaza. Bad man." It didn't take me a long time to realize that he must have been listening to a Jamaican song. He was really into it. Then at the club later that night I was treated to some oldies from the 80's and early 90's. Shabba Ranks, Red Rat, and some others who I didn't recognize, though I knew the songs.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You know, when I meet people and tell them I am from Jamaica, besides them smiling at me they usually offer the name 'Bob Marley'...in January everyone mentioned Usain Bolt firstly, and one guy even suggested Merlene Ottey before all the usual suspects.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My friend from Burkina Faso was at first puzzled by my pleasant surprise. She reminded me that Jamaican music is all people dance to in Burkina. She was shocked when I told her Jamaica's population was less than three million (Burkina: 15,208,586). Like myself, she is not able to understand how such a small country can hold such a prominent place in people's consciousness around the world. </span></div></span></span>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com87tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-6760960467831829712010-02-20T00:26:00.001+01:002010-03-01T23:37:30.210+01:00Gay Men Policing Heterosexuality in Jamaica<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As always, the architects of the proverbial closet subjugate his mind and provide him with the tools needed to perpetuate the suppression of his fundamental instincts, and those of others, effectively elevating lowly "slaves" to the position of "slave-drivers". It provides for effective social control.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We hate ourselves, because we have been conditioned to consider who we are as evil. I can't remember if I shared this with you before, but it's relevant to this post so here goes. A few months ago I met my school's LGBT advisor for a conversation, along with one guy from Morocco, and the other from Connecticut. The American noted how interesting it was to meet gay men from other countries, for he had never thought of them before. I then said to him that we might be from very different places but our experiences trying to negotiate socio-cultural spaces that marginalize us is the same, albeit to different extents. He disagreed. He said, "my coming out was actually quite easy. I told my parents, they said okay, and that was that." </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I on the other hand struggled for years to get to the place where I am now. I never doubted that I loved men, or that I was gay when I discovered that people in the world identified as "gay" and led quite normal lives, but I fought hard to understand why society was so hostile towards the idea of someone like me. Many gay Jamaican men don't quite get to the stage where they question the validity of their cultural paradigm. Instead, they continue to hate themselves, constantly wishing the gay away, hoping to meet the woman who will sweep them off their feet. Some of the most robust rejections of my being gay have come from Jamaican men struggling with their sexualities. But, I understand extremely well the factors that give rise to this kind of self-loathing and oftentimes outright rejection of the notion of a gay identity. It makes perfect sense that we have internalized the homophobia of our society, and interesting how one is given the tools to perpetuate his own oppression and that of others. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We must learn to love ourselves. We must erase every thought we've ever had that the attraction we feel is dirty, or evil. We will have to ignore every hurtful word people hurl at us when they question our masculinities. None of this is easy, but we must not hesitate to begin peeling away the layers of shame and guilt in which our Jamaican upbringing has encrusted us. The slave drivers were better regarded by their masters, but we gain nothing from perpetuating hatred and fear against our own. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Live. Let-Live. Love. </span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-34307482720073559942010-02-11T18:37:00.158+01:002010-02-13T19:06:47.954+01:00Kirikou et la Sorcière: A Social Commentary<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The film Kirikou et la Sorcière was released in 1998. Kirikou is a precocious West-African boy who delivers his village from the wickedness of a sorceress, Karaba. I grew up listening to stories about witchcraft and retribution so I was intrigued. The graphics were simple, but the story was profound. It would make for an excellent alternative/ addition to the European fairy-tales that we are accustomed to, I thought...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today my professor discussed the film in class, but made a rather intelligent analysis of the story (My excuse: I was watching the film from the perspective of a child hehe). So I decided to take another look at the film and here are some interesting things I noted:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The community described in the film is similar to my own in many ways. My parents for example, are very superstitious, and their belief in deities further gives credence to this disposition. Everything is the way it is, because a deity made it so. In the film, Karaba is the mover and the shaker behind the misfortunes that befall the village. The water source runs dry, and most of the adult males disappear. Karaba is regarded with fear and reverence, though she is not directly responsible for many of the misdeeds attributed to her.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the minds of the villagers, Karaba is punishing them because she is wicked. It makes no sense to ask why she is wicked, as Kirikou does throughout the film, because the response will always be: "It's Karaba's plan". How Karaba relishes the ignorance of the village-folk! Recognizing their gullibility she claims, or at least does not deny, responsibility for the series of misfortunes. With the help of her minions, she is able to rob the villagers of their gold, which they value. Her omnipotence grows, proportional to the fear she instills in them.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The cursed water fountain is a constant reminder of the community’s fate. People are advised to stay away, lest they get cursed and suffer further from the wrath of Karaba. Kirikou disregards the rule in his quest for answers and discovers the reason why the water no longer flows- it wasn't a curse. The problem could easily be remedied, and so it was. Everyone celebrated. Yet still, every successive effort Kirikou makes to challenge the status quo is met with reproach or disapproval. His mother, who is well aware of the systematic oppression her community faces is not able to find out Karaba's secret, but she trusts Kirikou and helps him to get to the other side of mountain, beyond Karaba's dwelling so he can get answers from the Wise Man.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The film does not tell us how the wise man came to be in the mountains--- and if he always knew the solution to the village's problems, why he never attempted to advise them accordingly? To be fair, the Wise Man never hesitated to share his knowledge, after Kirikou had risked his life to get to the mountains (a combination of supplication and sacrifice I believe is the real-life equivalent).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After doing some research, my professor discovered that in the original folk-tale Karaba had become bitter and evil only after having been gang raped by men from the community. The creator of the film skillfully weaves in this historical twist in a way that is hardly evident to a child. Speaking of the origins of Karaba's wickedness, the Wise Man tells how her attackers restrain her while one of them drives in the thorn. This ‘thorn’, which remains in Karaba until Kirikou devises a way to remove it, is symbolic of the physical and psychological trauma she endures.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Another little detail, which I couldn’t help but notice, is the rejection of Kirikou by his peers. He is too small, they said. Even after Kirikou rescues them twice from the wretched grasp of Karaba they continue to regard him as inferior. Shunning everything ‘different’ seems to be rooted in the human psyche. It’s perhaps an evolutionary adaptation, which once guaranteed security and kept communities together. Anachronistic, surely, in a globalized world where I’d like to think we are starting to move beyond perceived ethnic and national boundaries.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'll finish with a line from Kirikou:</span></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I am a little tired to fight on my own, and a little small and a little frightened. </span></span></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But fight he did. And so should we.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">** Forgive my indiscriminate mixing of tenses. The film can be found on Youtube, with english subtitles, of course. Watch it, and tell me what you think :D</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object height="295" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Me8O56MqjR8&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Me8O56MqjR8&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="350" height="265"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-49200615645881233512010-02-08T19:08:00.002+01:002010-03-10T18:40:37.727+01:00Patwa Kaana: Di Graas Griina fi Chuu, Bot...<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dem se di graas aalwiez luk griina pan di neda said. A chuu. Wen mi likl mi yuuz tu driim bout plies laka Frans an chos mi, di rialiti no mach-op so porfek at aal. Bot i mek sens stil, kaa wen yu no yuus tu a sertn ting we siim fi de somwe els, yu mos staat fantasaiz bout di somwe els. A jos so man mek. Bot aal di chrabl mi a chrabl, mi kyaahn siim fi sekl nowe. Mi naa se di graas no griin griin pan fimi said fi chuu ino, kaa chos mi i griin, bot aal di ruol mi a ruol ina di bam graas a bie krach mi kin a krach mi. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wan a di ting dem we mi kyaahn andastan a ou kom no mata we mi go gie man afi yuuz websait an chatruum fi miit dem wananeda.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"></span></span></div><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Waa gwaan. Yu gaa mi skuul no? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ye…waa yu stats.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We yu miin? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Blak ar wait. Ou taal/shaat. Ud lent. Kot ar ankot. Tap ar Batam. Fies picha. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Amm, yaa juok rait. Nuo? Taak tu yu lieta den. </span></span></o:p></div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"></span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ina Jumieka mi kyahn andastan, kaaz a no laik se yu kyahn jos waak op tu wahn man we yu laik, an fi nuo bout di paati dem yu afi nuo smadi uu nuo smadi uu gie- evribadi naav dat de logzri de. Nou wa mek ina Kianada, Merika an Frans a di siem ting mi a si? Evribadi a aid baka dem laptap. Everibadi jraa dong uu dem bi tu kopl suupafishal statistik and puoz op demself fi ii-shii-an-di-uol-liedi. (Big op if yu pruofail picha a wahn picha a yu bodi!!). An den mi tink, ef gie man kyaahn miit dem wananeda fies tu fies ina wahn konchri we dem av raits an protekshan, a we mi kuda riili ekspek fi apn ina Jumieka?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mi taak aal di wail se mi ago bi selibet, an piipl no biliiv mi, bot mi jos kyaahn andastan wa mek wi lou piipl fi ron wi main so. Mi a di fos smadi fi tel yu se kolcha a wahn powaful sinting, bot nuo man, piipl kyaahna mek siek a kolcha dem liv di wuola dem laif widout lov, an widout di fiilin se dem uola- se notn no rang wid dem. Muo taim mi afi aaks miself ef a mi wan si laif disya wie kaa muos a di res a gie man dem uu mi kom kraas luk kwait kantent wid dem laif ina di shado. (Mi naa taak bout piipl ina Jumieka, kaa mi no ekspek se piipl ago git op an ris dehn laif fi "lov"). Ef smadi liv ina wahn sosaiyati we kliem se i naav notn gens gie man, ou kom sumoch piipl stil afi a aid baka kompyuuta pruofail!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Piipl aalwiez taak se gie man lov seks muo dahn aadineri, an mi aalwiez riizn se i mek likl sens kaa piipl no av di chaans nof taim fi miit an bil rilieshanship so wen dem du miit, ataklaps mos apn ina di bedruum! Bot no tel mi se wi kyaahn muuv paas disya setop ya, we get papyula jos kaa a wehn di siefis wie fi miit piipl. Tingz likl difrent nou man!</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I luk tu mi se nof piipl stil no riili komfatebl wid demself. Mi andastan likl stil. Miebi di ting we a bada mi di muos a se mi wehn imajin se tingz uda nof-nof difrent. Bot eniwie, yu si chuu mi kyaahn tek no jraama, mi ago tan faar fran dem saiba piipl de, kaa wen yu tingk bout i siirios, tu dem yu a jos smadi fi ad tu di stak ina dem rampin shap. Afta di ak dem tuu shiem fi bil notn siirios we gwaihn fuos dem fi kanfront di fak se dem lov man.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So dis a wahn riil dailema. Mi figa se man tu man websait a fi piipl uu no riili av fimi andastandin bout seksualiti, an mi an dem naago grii, bot pan di neda an, anles a mi wan tan de wie ya (a kyaahn so!), mi no nuo we fi fain di ada man dem. Di graas mait griina pan di neda said, bot graas afi gruo ina dort, an a bie worm mi si a rigl chuu evriwe mi go.</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-9957099219003911042010-02-05T01:04:00.000+01:002010-02-10T00:06:16.523+01:00To Dad, With Love<div><div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I finally did it. The earth opened up briefly while I said, and repeated the words "I am gay." I braced myself for his response as he calmly replied, "Do you know how long I have been waiting for this day to come? I'm glad you can now relieve yourself of the burden." </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"How could you ever have expected that something so insignificant could come between us," he asked. "I love you, and nothing will ever change that," he continued. I had to ask him if he was listening to himself, because he seemed to have been reading from a manuscript which detailed all the right things to say to a son after he comes-out. He asked how my siblings had reacted, and demanded that I tell him if any of them has been teasing me so that he may give them a little talk. Unbelievable, right? Thankfully, all my siblings have been extremely supportive, listening to my stories, asking intelligent questions, and reassuring me of their love for me. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Now everyone who needs to know knows. My relationship with my family has never been stronger. I can feel it. After I spoke to daddy, I called one of my brothers and shared with him what had transpired. He was glad. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"FP, I hope you find a nice partner and settle down. And remember, always have safe sex." Wait, who abducted my father!!! </span></div><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:13.0pt;color:black;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div> </span><span style="font-family:Times;font-size:10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-41625934023695860692010-01-16T16:28:00.002+01:002010-02-13T19:05:35.104+01:00We Are the Masters of Our Fate<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yesterday I watched the film </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Invictus,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and despite my spate of cynicism in recent weeks I Ieft the cinema with a sense that with inspired political leadership it may still be possible to realize my nation's potential in my lifetime. Naive idealism? Perhaps. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AqKjVo-9qso&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AqKjVo-9qso&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jamaicans need to be inspired to the greatness the world has come to expect of us. On my recent sojourns in Nicaragua and France everyone I introduced myself as Jamaican to burst into a smile and offered the name Usain Bolt and Bob Marley. One Frenchman even mentioned Merlene Ottey, and we nodded in mutual understanding of the greatness for which Jamaica is prodigious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">South Africa today is the only country in the Global South whose constitution enshrines the full equality GLBT people. Post-apartheid leaders fully understood what prejudice and oppression felt like, and were dedicated to removing the scourge of discrimination from their nation. The majority of South Africa’s people were not in agreement, but the leaders boldly pressed on with the reforms that were necessary to create the nation that they envisioned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"In November 2006, the South African Parliament voted 230:41 for a bill allowing same-sex civil marriage, as well as civil unions for unmarried opposite-sex and same-sex couples."</span></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From my studies of history it seems apparent that insightful and revolutionary political leadership is critical to motivate a people to maximize their human potential. It also appears that great leaders typically emerge after periods of great challenge and unimaginable suffering. The Jamaican people are waiting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have the good fortune of being from a country that people recognize all over the world. It is time we use this comparative advantage to secure the prosperity of the next generation of Jamaicans.</span></div></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-8855620776587030972010-01-15T03:00:00.003+01:002010-02-20T00:31:46.992+01:00Annie John: A Gay Boy's Hero<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLv9jxVcJ1ZMQr4gN9zuC-oVjplRrKuhqmPr6e3Y3n44vjJLTfQ1Rn2dEADJV0E9zhyp9VbHfByNVdryxBhAhNE_Vsya3oJvRrN-ThCEXb0mJ3Wl8ml7mnW_uo2MfPBYPZcQMhL2Fr1zo/s1600-h/annie+john.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426794814190087698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLv9jxVcJ1ZMQr4gN9zuC-oVjplRrKuhqmPr6e3Y3n44vjJLTfQ1Rn2dEADJV0E9zhyp9VbHfByNVdryxBhAhNE_Vsya3oJvRrN-ThCEXb0mJ3Wl8ml7mnW_uo2MfPBYPZcQMhL2Fr1zo/s400/annie+john.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 264px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In grade 9 English Literature we studied the book </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Annie John</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, by Jamaican Kincaid. There are aspects of the book that I have never forgotten, and this is because I believe Annie's story provided a framework for me to envision a different future, perhaps away from Jamaica. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After looking at a summary of one of the chapters, I remembered why Annie's story stayed with me.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chapter 6: </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Somewhere, Beligium</span></span></i></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In this chapter, Annie is fifteen years old, and she imagines that she is unhappier than anyone else could possible be. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was also fifteen. I </span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">feet alone, yet everyone seems oblivious to the pain I felt. </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her unhappiness cannot be traced to a simple factor, but thrives inside like a heavy black ball that is covered with cobwebs </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is one of the symbols that I always remembered.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Annie believes that this blackness inside makes everything that she once enjoyed appear sour. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Annie starts to daydream. She decides that she wants to move to Belgium, where Jane Eyre, her favorite character, once traveled. In Belgium, Annie's mother could address letters to her as "Annie John, Somewhere Belgium," because Annie would not say in what city she was. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have had a mild obsession with Belgium to this day.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> It is worth noting that the character of Jane Eyre, herself, is an orphan who always felt cast out and separated from the world. Annie's tendency to identify with Jane, despite the fact that she has a family, demonstrates how alienated and isolated she feels from her mother. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I too started to feel alienated from my mother after my parent's divorce. Especially when my mother started to date men. She loved me less, surely. </span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One day Annie walks into town after school. She finds herself in front of a clothing store and sees her reflection in the window. Annie sadly observes that she looks awkward and ugly, and she compares herself to a picture of young Lucifer. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Puberty was an interesting time for me. First I was the chubby child, then the maaga adolescent. I never felt attractive, and even today still am very self-conscious about my body. </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some boys standing nearby start teasing Annie gently. Her mother explains that she was in the clothing store and saw Annie looking in. She also saw Annie flirting and conducting herself improperly with those boys. After Annie's mother uses the slang word for "slut" numerous times, Annie says "like mother like daughter." </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I too quipped at my mother when I felt she was out of line. I was punished, but parents should not be allowed to exercise power absolutely, absolved of wrongdoing because supposedly they know best. Sometimes parents do not know best. My mother lived in a time very different from my own. How dare her apply her own mother's parenting tactics today. </span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Annie's feeling of dismay at her physical body and appearance prefigures her physical illness that follows in the next chapter. Already by obsessing over the black ball of sadness in her and by seeing her face with distortion, Annie appears to be on the cusp of a mental breakdown. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm not sure what insanity feels like, but I feel sure that I have come close to it. You think so much that you get absorbed into an alternate reality, characterized only by your concerns, anxieties and fear. Your resolve to fight disappears, and you become hateful of everything and everyone that has induced your feeling so inadequate. One of my teachers in high school once pulled me aside and informed me that she noticed I was quite aloof, and needed to change my approach to people if I was ever to be a good leader. I never cared to lead inconsiderate people, so her words meant little to me then. </span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Annie thinks she is ready to have her own trunk to put her own objects and stories into. Annie's desire for a trunk of her own foreshadows her eventual desire to emerge as a separate person. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can't as easily identify when I decided to step back from my reality and construct an identity and a place of my own. I think it happened near the end of high school when I made friends with other misfits who also sought to get away from their own realities. </span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The book ends with the following line:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #57585b; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I could hear the small waves lap lapping around the ship. They made an unexpected sound as if a vessel filled with liquid had been placed on its side and was now emptying out."</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Annie John drifts slowly away from every reality she has ever known, but towards one that she has dreamed of for years. The novel ends with her emergence as an independent young woman who will discover the world on her own, and determine a more agreeable reality. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not surprisingly, my own life follows a similar trajectory. I'll never forget the feeling I had while sitting on that Air Jamaica flight to Miami. I couldn't contain my excitement. I couldn't stop smiling. I looked out the window as the Kingston cityscape grew less and less visible. The cobwebs slowly started to fall from the black ball within. </span></span></i></div></span></span></div></span></span></span></div></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-77055792758965719872010-01-10T18:03:00.003+01:002010-02-14T22:52:35.453+01:00The Glass Closet + Gay Men in Jamaica<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4996ooNhttVUQNxyr0gmWWUrPyxSppgRKERUWKSdjkBlWMOm8tDU3PEriP8SrN5jkDm6_h5o6jmPZCQ4pPRD8ubKXvTmy04S0NoMajjWCd_unvLknVA7ymAFVN70fLv78iq1epaDJf2Y/s1600-h/glass+closet.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426645906690860962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4996ooNhttVUQNxyr0gmWWUrPyxSppgRKERUWKSdjkBlWMOm8tDU3PEriP8SrN5jkDm6_h5o6jmPZCQ4pPRD8ubKXvTmy04S0NoMajjWCd_unvLknVA7ymAFVN70fLv78iq1epaDJf2Y/s400/glass+closet.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></div></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">I recently discovered an interactive website, which explores how Jamaica’s cultural, political and religious traditions are making it harder for public health officials to control the spread of HIV/AIDS. The project is titled </span></span><a href="http://pulitzergateway.org/the-glass-closet/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">The Glass Closet</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">. It puts faces to people living with AIDS, men who have sex with men, and the people who often risk their lives to provide services to these vulnerable communities.</span></span></div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">"In Jamaica, strict anti-sodomy laws and often violently homophobic social currents have skewed the national HIV infection rates. While the general population’s infection rate is currently about 1.4%, the infection rate in the gay community is more than 20 times higher -- almost 32%."</span></span></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">The site has many videos and commentaries, and also offers a section for people around the world to share their stories about the impact of homophobia and stigma. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Here are some of the videos created for the project:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Gays in Jamaica Worship in Underground Church</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6Nw7zZJdgQE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6Nw7zZJdgQE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object></div></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Violence and Venom Forces Gays to Hide</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8uOqZkkJ_bQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8uOqZkkJ_bQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Jamaica's Battle Against Aids Fought in the Shadows</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xAdmpjWCvsU&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xAdmpjWCvsU&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Ida's Story: Reversing the Stigma of HIV/AIDS in Jamaica</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z_p6WY9UZls&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z_p6WY9UZls&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Check out the site by clicking </span></span><a href="http://pulitzergateway.org/the-glass-closet/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">here</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://pulitzergateway.org/the-glass-closet/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"> <br />
</span></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426646917954017826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUh8QBVD8vJ5OIHWO6GlWDdY8btigaXwiu3ztb3h2VOyS-OnoxQTKWt-xx49yYI_Mu0jnhmYCY4a50UwDt1FYda_H3qaieQVhHeQySRXicANaqN9q5HkDv3jbnWYLPWEN3GUe_xPk3RTc/s400/glass+closet+2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-37371866126529000232009-12-29T20:02:00.001+01:002010-02-10T17:36:51.515+01:00Homophobia Boosts IQ's in Jamaica?<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Could it be that Jamaica’s virulent homophobia is driving its gay teenagers to the top of academic rankings? The correlation between disenfranchisement and how driven one is academically is not immediately apparent; in fact, for people from indigent backgrounds, it is likely that on average, they will perform more poorly academically. This matrix does not seem to apply to effeminate gay men in Jamaica however, and I’ll explain why I believe so.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was one of the top students in my high school. All of my close friends were doing exceptionally well, and among the five that are male, three are gay. Coincidence? Perhaps. In the grade below mine, the top student for four consecutive years (until he was forced to leave the school amidst rumours that he was gay and had had gay sex on campus) was very effeminate. I am desperately trying to reconnect with this young man today. I can’t speak to him identifying as gay, but he was definitely as effeminate as the rest of us who now identify as such. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I won a scholarship at the end of high school and was one of three men selected to study abroad. Of the three of us, two are gay. I have some friends who know both of us who used to joke that they only know gay Jamaican guys- the irony kills me. I know at least ten Jamaican men studying in America, half of them are gay. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don’t know many people at UWI, but the few I know tell me that a significant proportion of the men there are gay. I have met a few myself, and they tell me about the large network of gay men of which they are a part. This never surprises me because I have had my theories for a while now. Now, there is a point beyond which this has to be recognized as more than coincidence.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If this is true, that gay men perform much better than straight ones on average, why is this so?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In Jamaica, it is not cool to be studious if you have a penis. You are called a sissy, gyal and a batiman- which are among the worst names you can call a Jamaican man. It shouldn’t be surprising then that the only boys who brave the onslaught of ridicule are the ones that are actually effeminate and are questioning their sexuality. Creating masculine men is a serious objective of Jamaican culture, and so those of us that exhibit feminine tendencies are reprimanded at every opportunity from a very young age. I lost count of how many times I was asked, “yaa gyal?” (“are you a girl?”) as a child. I was very close to my sister and would try on her dresses, and walk in her shoes. I would have gotten away with thinking this was normal, except for when my father came home and screamed at me to get out of my sister’s clothing. I never received dolls, but I would play with my sister’s, and we would design and make clothing for them. I knew I was different, because everyone told me I was so. I used to follow my brothers to the football field in the evening but I never had interest in playing. They would forcefully suggest that I join a team because supposedly, having a penis qualifies you to play football, and I would always embarrass myself. Then came the name-calling! When I went to school the teasing escalated tenfold. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Children want nothing more than to be accepted by their peers and it hurts when they cannot get the acceptance they seek. Now this is what I understand in retrospect: doing well academically is one of the surest ways to gain some respect in school. It is not always from peers, but adults are drawn to the star performers and they are very encouraging. How nice it was to be patted on the back and to hear, “good job”, or have your test score announced to the entire class. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In high school, people teased me relentlessly. One day, while participating in a science quiz in St. Catherine, someone who didn’t even know me called me a ‘he-she’ after I quipped that she was disrespectful when she said something vile about a friend of mine. For the entire day, her friends teased me. One of them later asked to see my fingernails. I asked why, and she said, “oh I was told you wear nail polish.” I showed her that I didn’t, and she remarked how strikingly clean they were for a guy. Aren’t they supposed to be clean, I asked back? One day, I was walking with a friend of mine, when a group of primary school students visiting my school shouted at me, “si di girly wan de!” (“Look, the effeminate one!”)- I had been on TVJ the night before. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It seems that only people who didn’t conform to gender stereotypes as children would have the opportunity to make the realization that they can gain some modicum of respect among their peers if they do well in school. More masculine males with homosexual proclivities never had to claw for respect, and so there was no extra motivation to do well academically. Beyond conforming to gender norms, by being good at sports, or dancing, there aren’t many ways to raise one’s social capital. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am not suggesting that all effeminate boys make great students, because this is clearly not so. It is unmistakable though, that there are a disproportionate number of gay men doing well academically in Jamaica. Scientific studies suggest that gay men make up between 4 and 10 % of any given population, but I can promise you, in faith, that of all Jamaican men with stellar academic records, a greater proportion are gay than such statistics would suggest. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I want to do a survey of all the Jamaica men studying in America. I have a feeling my hypothesis holds true here too. Gay Jamaican men have a life-preserving imperative to leave the island, and getting a scholarship to study abroad is one of the less demanding ways to do so. Those who can’t find a way out before university seek out grad programs or jobs abroad after they complete their first degrees. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Isn’t it interesting? Jamaican popular culture is very homophobic. It hates gay people, and it wishes to eradicate them for the plague that it believes they are. Yet its very stance against gender non-conformity has pushed many gay men to the top of academic performance tables, and therefore in positions of power- maybe not politically, but otherwise. This is Jamaica’s big secret. Many of the sons of its soil whose achievements it celebrates are in fact same-gender loving. Who is going to tap Bruce’s shoulder and share this information? Little does he know, he might do well with some gay men in his cabinet. But then again, Gordon House is not known to attract the brightest minds. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com168tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-48081536159871661692009-12-26T20:26:00.005+01:002010-02-20T00:37:27.466+01:00Skinny-Jeans and Durags: Gay & Black Normativity<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If only through watching American TV, many of us are familiar with the stereotypical characterization of the gay man. (The Jamaican stereotype is far more limited- cross dressing-limp wristed-go-go dancing- gyali gyali-he-shes.) Many gay men do not fit either stereotype. Interestingly though, the gay community and the media have helped to normalize the stereotypes, by which all other gay men are judged as being out or not, gay or straight. I do not feel as though I am a part of the gay community in America, but my situation is more complex- even though I apparently fit many of the stereotypes, I never grew up in America and so do not associate strongly with what I like to term ‘rainbow culture’.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I recently spoke with a gay man, two years my senior, who said that he did not fit into the gay community, and was made to feel unease for this reason. His experiences forced me to ask, is there any utility in perpetuating an exclusive dominant culture within a stigmatized population? Otherwise, what are the negative implications of having a dominant culture that everyone is expected to acculturate to, and do these implications merit a revolt against the normalizing culture?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My friend shared that people suggest that he is not out enough, or assume that he is not comfortable with his sexuality, for the mere reason that he ‘passes’ more easily than others who embrace popular representations of gay men, or. How we present ourselves has a lot to do with our gender identity. You would think that gay men should better be able to recognize that the male gender encompasses a diversity of gender identities, and would be more empathetic to those excluded by the now normative standards. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Is this dynamic different in other minority communities? Some of the elements of the stereotypical African American identity are as follows: Baggy jeans hanging below the butt. Hoodies. Durags and hats. Air Force sneakers. Having swag. Walk around any major American city, and you will see many black men who present themselves in this way. Others who do not are teased for trying to be white, and they too feel excluded from the dominant culture of which they should supposedly be a part .</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Many aspects of the Black identity are stigmatized, and so a perpetuation of the black identity as we have come to know it potentially furthers the marginalization of Black males as the stereotypical male representation is also the stereotypical profile of criminals. How is it sensible for stigmatized minority groups to present themselves in ways that further distinguishes them for the dissenting majority? Because it is comforting. It gives people something to cling to... a group within which they can give their lives meaning, independent of the majority's view of them. This seems to be more important than capitulating to the expectations of the majority through assimilation.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am very put off by suggestions that I am merely acting out what society has prescribed as appropriate social roles for gay men, so I always feel compelled to make disclaimers as to why I fit some gay stereotypes. Insecurities surfacing? Perhaps. I still have some issues with popular representations of gay men, and how they in turn influence people to perceive me a certain way I mean, some people fit the stereotypes because that is what they are most comfortable doing, and there should be nothing wrong with that. It's the disappearance of choice that gets to me. But even if I fit the stereotype, do I dance well because I am gay? Am I loud and self-confident because society expects me to be so? Do I dress well because gay men are supposed to?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It so happens that I came out at a time and in a place where it was okay to make a fool of myself on the dance floor. It was okay to have an opinion to the contrary of the majority. And I could finally afford to buy my own clothing (I do have a certain style, but I think that has more to do with being Jamaican than being gay). So it is easy to look and say Fiyu came out to the gay identity that society has created for him. How much of what I do is innate? It's hard to see when you observe countless other gay men doing the same, and when your actions mirror popular representations. Should it matter? I'm still the process of trying to figure this out.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wish people were able to come out without the fear of being murdered. Maybe then we would be able to deconstruct the many stereotypes that help to perpetuate our marginalization; some Jamaican people are of the opinion that gay people (i.e., what little they know about them) and their lives don’t matter. I would like to introduce Jamaicans to my friend, who doesn’t think he dances well, would never be caught dead in skinny jeans, is very reserved, yet fully cognizant of his sexuality.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can acknowledge the utility of creating some singular identity behind which people can be mobilized for the greater cause, but gay men must be careful to recognize the diversity that exists in our community, and find way to engage people of various characters. The media has put us in a box; we need not reinforce its walls and make it more difficult for others to come in... we must be doing the opposite.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This issue matters to me because I can empathize with the extremely effeminate, flamboyant gay men. I'm as gay as they come in Jamaica, so I stand out easily- or so I think. Also, I believe I was much more effeminate when I was younger. I'm not quite sure if I lost (most of) it as I matured, or if Jamaica's efforts at social conditioning finally got to me. Flamboyant gay men are stereotypically bold. They are at the forefront of the fight for LGBT rights, and it makes sense that they are, since they are most easily identified as gay, and suffer the most homophobic hatred and violence. Those of us who can pass do so, because life is that much more challenging otherwise. But I also empathize with those that become outsiders to the gay community, because I understand well what it means to be ostracized from a community in which you feel you should belong.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is impossible to create a singular identity for all members of any minority group. Or rather, it is difficult to create a singular identity that everyone will embrace. Every community is by its very nature exclusive. It is imperative that we have a certain sensitivity to this, and help to integrate people who may be different from prevailing standards as much as is possible. Diversity is good. After all, Isn't that the message we take to the majority?</span></div></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-70650517520077594132009-11-05T04:47:00.004+01:002010-03-10T00:49:55.562+01:00The Inefficacy of American-led Boycotts Against Jamaican Homophobia<div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have always been ambivalent about the renewed call for a boycott of Jamaica by North American gay-rights activists. Though I believe that inaction should never be an option, I am mindful of the complexity of the situation at hand, and know fully well that a boycott of Jamaican products and tourism will not be sufficient to make the social environment more tolerant of minority sexualities and genders. The question one must then ask is this, whose interests are being served by calls to boycott Jamaica? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 16px;">The evidence on hand suggests that gay and lesbian Jamaicans who lead lives shrouded in fear and shame are not always a primary concern. </span></span></span><br />
<!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment--> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Over the last decade, different organizations have sustained an assault on Jamaican musicians, who sing lyrics they deem objectionable. Much of Dancehall music is indeed homophobic, as much as it is sexist, misogynistic, and murderous. But, it is important to acknowledge the cultural context which gives rise to such an abhorrent reality, and holistically consider feasible strategies to induce progressive change. I have noticed that some of the translations of music from Jamaican Creole to English muddle the meaning of words and phrases, by using literal and superficial interpretations. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In their Dancehall Dossier published a few years ago, Outrage! deliberately attempted to portray Dancehall music as hate speech, supported by poor translations and misleading texts. For example, the first line offered as unequivocal proof that one Jamaican artiste, Beenie Man, spouts hate speech, is from his song, </span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">An Op De</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> (Throw Your Hands in the Air). The line in the promotional document reads:</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope.”</span></span></em><br />
<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One would imagine that the song’s primary intent is a directive to kill lesbians by hanging, but further consideration of the lyrics in their entirely yields a different truth. In my analysis, two lines in the chorus stand out as being particularly homophobic:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Ef yu bon batiman mek mi si di an a go op”</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Ang chichi gyal wid a lang piis a ruop”</span></span></em><br />
<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Someone without an understanding of Jamaica’s sociolinguistic culture would translate these two lines in English as follows:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“If you burn homosexuals let me see your hands going up”</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope”</span></span></em><br />
<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the literal English that is reminiscent of the misinformed translations in the dossier, the chorus continues:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Burn hypocrites, let me see the hands going up”</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Hang witch doctors with a long piece of rope”</span></span></em><br />
<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jamaican is a language coloured with many violent metaphors, perhaps a reflection of the high levels of physical violence and aggression that are permissible in the society. In the song, the same murderous regard is offered for ‘hypocrites,’ or ‘haters’ as they are better known in America, and for witch doctors, who in Jamaica are thought to possess the ability to thwart your potential for success, if someone commissions them to do so. The assumption would be that Jamaicans dislike witch doctors to the extent that they do lesbians, and are advocating for them to be hanged en masse, but this is not the reality. Obeah men are feared, even revered, and their services are much sought after. “Burn” and “Hang” are not meant literally; they are not proclamations of war against the groups named, but denunciations of those groups whose actions are an affront to personal growth, and heterosexual hegemony- both important aspects of the Jamaican psyche. <br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The advocacy group singles out and reduces the content of </span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">An Op De</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to one objectionable line from the song, then characterized the artiste and his music, as homophobic. Clearly, there is an unaknowledged complexity to the imperative to denounce homosexuality in Jamaican popular culture. There is no equivalent world for homosexuality in Jamaican Creole, so it is possible that the artiste is denouncing homosexuality, and not homosexuals as a group of individuals. A more culturally sensitive, translation of the first line of the chorus could read:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“If you disapprove of homosexual lifestyles, let me see your hands going up.</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></em></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This clearly reads very differently than </span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"burn homosexuals." Fi bon out sitn</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> (to "burn" something or someone) is a spoken show of disapproval, or distaste. So Jamaicans </span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"bon out"</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> witnesses to crimes who testify in court (infaama); oral sex practitioners (pusi soka); and the covetous among us, who do not like seeing others prosper (ipokrit).</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> The belief in a homosexuality-free global African cultural traditions is very prominent in Jamaica. Thus homosexuality is viewed as a foreign-derived corruption. Homosexuality is widely regarded as morally reprehensible, and few would deny the religious nature of Jamaican society, and the pertinence of such beliefs. The activists are decrying the wanton proclamation of violence against homosexuals, but it is perceived that they are forcing immorality upon the nation, or otherwise, an enlightened ideology, which again is evocative of centuries old European imperialism.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We need to act decisively, and with exigency, but not with ignorance of Jamaican culture, and misguided, singular approaches to dealing with its unique manifestation of homophobia. American gay rights activists have a very important role to play in the offensive against entrenched conservative values, but their efforts will only be fruitful if it is coupled with advocacy efforts within Jamaica. Homosexual, like Hispanic or Italian, is an identity marker in America, but in Jamaica, it is regarded as a lifestyle choice, a behaviour, akin to smoking, or exercising. We need to mobilize support in Jamaica to educate people about what it means to gay or lesbian. It is not enough to tell god-fearing Jamaicans that their opinion of homosexuality is bigoted and wrong, because then, we become bigoted ourselves. </span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No one culture has the authority to dictate morality. We seek to educate, not intimidate, as that could result in an epic backlash of violent proportions. Jamaicans will surely defend the legitimacy of their cultural mores, however retrograde we perceive them to be. This is their sovereign right.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We know what needs to be done. Let us do it well. <br />
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</style>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-25768368429799056092009-11-04T00:22:00.002+01:002010-03-04T14:41:23.749+01:00Ragashanti Interviews 'Male Cross-Dresser'<object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/z6oxzlXxBH4&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/z6oxzlXxBH4&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="265" width="320"></embed></object><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I find the content of this interview quite objectionable, because Raga’s analysis is characterized by misunderstandings, and ignorance about human sexuality and gender identity. Sadly, she too supports the anachronistic gender binary, which renders people like her invisible.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ragashanti ignorantly refers to her as being “gay” numerous times, as if to suggest that gay men typically cross-dress. This is a fallacy. Being effeminate does not equate to being a woman, and even so, many gay men are not effeminate. Therein lies a popular misperception that Ragahanti uses the interview to perpetuate. His insistence that she is not a woman is ridiculous, but understandable, since it is common knowledge that most Jamaicans conflate genitalia with gender identity. A baby with a penis is male, which means he must like trucks and the colour blue, and he will be attracted to girls. This reductionist model of human sexuality and gender fuels our belligerent reaction to gender non-conformists.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What does it mean to be male or female? When we meet people, we assume their gender based on their gender presentation- clothing being the most significant gender marker. It is improbable, that you would ask someone if they have the genitalia to match their gender presentation. This woman clearly has a feminine gender presentation, and has genuine interest in undergoing gender reassignment surgery. If the genitalia of all your friends whose genitalia you have not yet seen is insignificant to your understanding of their gender, then it shouldn’t be used to disqualify this woman’s claim that she is a woman.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ragashanti expresses his desire for her to stop “deceiving” people. Gender is not something you turn off or on at will; it is inherent to your being. It is unfair to expect that this woman should conform to unrealistic gender norms that do not reflect the way she identifies herself. Deception is unavoidable in this situation, because she cannot speak truthfully about her gender without realistically fearing that she might be on the receiving end of vigilante justice. And for what? Many Jamaicans do not fit into the binary model of gender and sexuality. This may be hard to imagine, but males do not always have a penis, and having a penis does not necessarily indicate that someone is attracted to women. The sky will not fall, and the world will not end with the acknowledgement of this truth. </span></span></div><span style="font-size: 100%;"> <br />
</span>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-87132667941538349562009-11-03T06:39:00.003+01:002010-02-20T11:06:59.665+01:00The Gleaner on 'The Jamaican Gay Issue'<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Does this venerable newspaper have an opinion on the 'homosexual issue'? Oftentimes, it publishes editorials slamming politicians and vigilante groups for perpetuating hatred, and using wanton violence against homosexuals. Other times, its pages are filled with poorly argued, homophobic rants without any disclaimer. The Flair this week includes an article entitled '</span></span><a href="http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20091102/flair/flair4.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">The Jamaican gay issue'</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">. This inflammatory piece argues that violence against a minority group is acceptable when it is culturally sanctioned, and that crimes against gay men should not be taken seriously, because in all likelihood, the person was killed by their violence-prone lover.<br />
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Firstly, how is it logical to compare someone's choice to play cricket or baseball with their sexuality? The analogy is weak, when one considers that sexuality is an immutable human characteristic, and that homosexuality exists in every strata within every culture. When a country's laws and cultural practices sanction violence against a group of its people who have historically been marginalized, then I understand that foreign organizations will be moved to counsel us. Jamaicans are being hurt everyday- if not by physical violence, by feelings of guilt and shame about something that is normal. They feel that they do not belong in the country of their birth, and fear that mob murder is inevitable and imminent. Had the writer been the parent of a gay or lesbian child, I am sure s/he wouldn't support the status quo so vigorously. The world didn't stand by and wait during Apartheid, assuming that it was culturally acceptable to marginalize Black South Africans, so it'll have to wait till things change from within. People everywhere are able to identify injustice (or their perceptions of injustice) and will speak out against it in whatever capacity possible.<br />
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The writer ignorantly declares that foreigners should keep their baseball and allow Jamaicans to play their cricket. But, acknowledging someone's right to 'play baseball' has nothing to do with what game everyone else plays. To borrow from the weak analogy, why can't we play baseball and cricket in Jamaica, as we already are, albeit covertly? What s/he, and many others, fails to recognize is that there are thousands of gay men in Jamaica. This class of individuals does not have a powerful voice, and foreign groups have stepped in to help, so that this disenfranchised class can be acknowledged and one day guaranteed the rights that are offered to all Jamaican citizens, freedom from persecution and protection from the state. In the same way that it took great pressure from international organizations and nation states to overcome apartheid in South Africa, it might take a similar effort to dismantle the foundations of anti-gay rhetoric and action that flourishes on the island, and around the world. Cultural imperialism? Absolutely. Some things are just wrong. I accept that people can believe that homosexuality is sinful, but it cannot be okay to advocate for violence against a group of people.<br />
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Lastly, The Soloist supports the misconception that homosexuals are more violent than heterosexuals. This cannot be proved empirically, and belief in this libelous statement justifies police and government inaction in times when the rights of gay Jamaicans are being infringed. Typically, many have considered gay men only when they are casualties of homicide, or mob murder, so it is reasonable that they characterize gay men as jealous, violence-prone maniacs, or cross dressing, limp-wristed pseudo females- but these are stereotypes, and should be regarded as such. I do not doubt that there are gay men who were murdered by their lovers, but I will trust that the axe wielding lover is a minority, akin to their heterosexual counterparts, until I see evidence to the contrary. There has to be a rational voice in any discussion of homosexuality. The Soloist's published article gives credence to parochial propaganda. Through publishing this unsophisticated opinion piece, the Gleaner actively retrogresses from the advances it has made championing equal rights for all Jamaicans.</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-89801584407324961512009-10-22T01:01:00.003+02:002010-02-20T15:40:45.070+01:00A Mother Always Knows Best...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Almost a month since my last post, and so much has changed! Last Friday was one of those days when all the hatred against gays in the world became apparent to me. I was weak, and vulnerable, and I wanted to find someone to talk with, someone who could understand. But for that one moment in my life, nobody was around. So, I called mommy. She immediately asked me what was wrong, and then the tears started to flow. I started to weep, and my mother tried to console me.<br />
<br />
You would never believe the things she said to me:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Honey I love you, and your siblings love you. It shouldn't matter how other people perceive you, because you must understand that people will not always affirm your sense of self. If I, your mother, can accept you for who you are, then I don't see why others cannot. Just be yourself, and do what makes you happy.</span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I was her baby again, and not some gay thing that happened into her life. I expected her to come around sometime, but never so soon. Now, my heart is at peace.<br />
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Here at school I am making headway into the LGBT community. Last year, I didn't have the courage to go to Coming Out Stories, and present myself as a gay man, but this time around I was. I listened as students, males and females, black and white, shared aspects of ther coming out stories with about 40 people. I had to tell my story. I raised my hand and started to talk, just after hearing a freshman female reiterate that "chicks are so hot!" People listened. And they smiled at times, and stared intently when they were supposed to. The snapped rhythmically when I ended with my mother's dramatic turnaround. How sweet it is to be able to speak so openly about my sexuality. Not having to consider who is in the room listening. Not having to look over my shoulders. Not having to feel self-conscious. Bliss.<br />
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I am so lucky. I read the news reports of new considerations in parliament to put a clause institutionalizing homophobia and discrimination into the Charter of Rights Bill. The possibility of same sex marriages in Jamaica is so far fetched at this point, that debates about prohibiting it are senseless. We should be discussing that question at a time when it is more pertinent, but, this is Jamaica for you, where every effort to distract people's attention from the inefficiencies of the government is maximized. A year ago I would have been outraged at this development. Today I am just concerned. I don't have the strength to persuade all the ignorant people in my country that I am deserving of basic rights of freedom and equality. I am but a vagabond, scrimmaging on the fringes of Jamaican society waiting for a break.<br />
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If only they knew.</span></span> </div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-69305620534551089792009-10-04T23:45:00.002+02:002010-02-20T15:39:53.277+01:00Failed Exorcism<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's been far too long. Classes have long started, and I am drowning in the sea of academia. I took a look at my blog today, and the desire to share my recent experiences was too compelling for me to resist.<br />
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Very little has happened since I left purgatory almost one month ago. My mother is working tirelessly to find a cure for my diseased mind and body. I am indifferent. She is confident that I never left Jamaican "this" way, when I set sail on a journey of self discovery three years ago. I was corrupted by blasphemous liberal ideology, and now she wants her son back. She has enlisted the help of pastors, doctors and close friends, to help her find a solution to this pernicious evil devouring her heart. I must be purged of the demons that lie within me, lest she loses me forever. She prays constantly, beseeching God to do what she herself cannot manage to accomplish from thousands of miles way.<br />
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This is so frustrating. She is putting up every barrier imaginable to thwart my efforts to help her come to terms with what I am sure is a very difficult reality. She doesn't want to understand. She wants nothing more but for me to apologize for my sexual identity. She innocently asks me how classes are going, while she schemes wickedly against me.<br />
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Life goes on. I was convinced of this fact when I decided to drop the bomb. Now it's time for the slow and painful period of reconciliation and healing.<br />
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I have made great efforts to integrate myself into the school's LGBTQ support system. My efforts haven't been enormously successful, but I am learning to revel in the marginal advances made each day. I am more self-aware and self-confident than ever before.<br />
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I love myself. I love and appreciate the people around me. I love being happy.<br />
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Keep well, and love yourself always.<br />
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Me.</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-53118450870548463492009-09-10T04:24:00.004+02:002010-02-20T15:35:33.264+01:00Coming Out to My Mother<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Coming out is never easy. I think we can all agree with this statement, no matter our personal experiences. I knew I had to tell my mother before I left Jamaica, but I was growing scared that this might never happen. We watched gay-themed movies; we had discussions about gender, and sexuality; I told her of my gay friends, but I couldn't say three simple words: I am gay.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yesterday, I did it. She went silent, perfectly on cue. It didn't help that I said the words most bluntly, in a matter of fact tone (as I've said before, people deal with the news a lot better when you sound sorry for yourself, concede that what you are doing is wrong/immoral, and that you want to change). For the rest of the evening her brows remained knitted, concern etched into her face. "I want to talk about this," I said to her, but she wasn't ready. Today, I pushed her to tell me how she felt. Though I am familiar with all the concerns she raised, it was still hard to hear them from her. I keep forgetting I do not have the luxury of living in a country where gay issues are pertinent, and where parents are sensitive to the issues that their gay children face. I was caught off-guard.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">God. Sin. Anal Sex. Blood. Gender Incompatibility. Childhood. Effeminacy. Nature v Nurture. Love. Fear. Disbelief. Shock. Tears.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She couldn't sleep last night, and probably wont tonight either.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes in life it is much easier to leave things unsaid. Today, I chose the difficult alternative, and said things my mother would rather not hear, despite her suspicions. I'm not sure how things will progress from here, but I believe her when she tells me that she doesn't love me any less. Perhaps now she is just torn between her loyalty to me, her son, and her pastor who tells her to rid her life of sin. I am sin walking, I suppose.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">~*~*~</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">*Knowing how deeply immoral homosexuality is, I should never have chosen that lifestyle for myself.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is the same woman whose sons have had multiple children out of wedlock, with multiple women. They have collectively screwed half the women in my Parish. I doubt she ever chided them for choosing an immoral lifestyle. But oh, fornication is not sinful.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">*I made her feel bad about the event with her Bishop, where I was fondled. Luckily the ordeal was lessened by the prayers and bible scriptures he chanted simultaneously. She would be so embarrassed now, if she had ever confronted her Bishop.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Okay. So heterosexual people who are raped shouldn't get redress, because they are supposed to enjoy heterosexual sex? The man put his filthy hands on me!!! Whether I am gay or fucking straight, my mother should be furious!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">* She is not condemning me, I am reassured. That is very comforting to me, having just gone through all the reasons why homosexuality is bad.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Forget that I have to live with the fact that "my choice" is the bane of the entire developing/ religious world's existence. Being a gay Jamaican is nice and dandy. I am so thankful that my mother is stopping just short of kicking me out.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I agree she is ignorant, but I would rather she try to understand, rather than recycle all the misinformed, homophobic garb that I have heard time and time again.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">*Sodom and Gomorra? Really?!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I don't give a fuck at this point. I told the truth. Perhaps she would rather live in Utopia, where all her children are heterosexual, and are busy populating the earth with their many babies.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She wants to put her hands to her head and holler out, crying. Okay.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm being very insensitive here, but didn't she say she always surmised? It seems to me that her reaction should be, "what took you so long," as opposed to one of outrage. The Gleaner article on the characteristics of a gay teenager were very explicit, she says, and everyone in the house read and confirmed that I fit the bill perfectly. I sent her blood pressure skyrocketing. My apologies. There isn't really a good way to tell you I'm gay.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She used an interesting analogy to explain her reaction.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You know when you know you are sick, but you try to convince yourself you are fine... and then after a while the doctor makes a damning prognosis that you don't want to hear: You have cancer, and but a few months left to live.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm not sure if the cancer is a pun for my malignant homosexuality.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am angry. People are stupid. Instead of pulling people closer, they push them away. I don't fancy being regarded as a casualty of North American attitudes, and an imperfect son, because I know there is nothing wrong with me.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am convinced that people can project negativity on you. I come to Jamaica and I morph in to this self-concious, fearful, self-hating version of myself. In the house now, I am battling a melange of feelings ranging from, resentment, to regret, to guilt and sorrow. I can't be surrounded by this.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thankfully, I am just days from freedom.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">~*~*~</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When she returns she comes to the room with tears in her eyes. My sibling asks her what is wrong- if she is still troubled by what I told her.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yes. She hasn't been able to sleep for the last few days. Every minute she thinks on it, and she breaks down crying. The way she is feeling now, she wished I never said anything. Then she said the words I never wanted to hear. It's the kind of stuff you hear in movies- the kind of thing that you know no gay child should ever hear: I do not now, and will never accept that you are gay.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">*"What of every man, like you, decided to be this way (she can't quite say the word gay/ battyman), what would happen to humanity?"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ammm, ok. People tend to ask this a lot. That statement is based on the premise that people can "turn" gay. This is simply not so. Homosexuals have always existed, and if they never undermined population growth before, they surely wont now. Everyone wont "turn" gay. The majority of people are predisposed (for whatever host of reasons) to be heterosexual.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My sibling tried to respond to her ridiculous question (I'm being harsh, yes, but I really do hold my mom to higher intellectual standards), and by this time I was so frustrated that I flew past her and ran out of the house. According to her, nothing I say or do will justify my "behaviour", so I saved my breath.</span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">~*~*~</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I watched the film Boys Don't Cry with my mom a few months ago, so we could have some serious conversation about gender, and sexuality. That obviously didn't work too well, because now she swears that I want to be a girl. "He doesn't walk like a boy", she says to my sister. "And look at the way he dances!" Okay. I have a penis, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I am ultra-masculine, and it doesn't mean that I like girls. There are variations of human gender identity and sexuality. I thought watching and discussing the key issues in the film would make that clear, and I thought she understood, but I guess everything changes when the subject of such discussions is your own child- well, apparently.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, I still tried to reach out to her before I left the island. The day before I left, I begged her to watch the film For The Bible Tells Me So. We started watching, and then she fell asleep. I woke her up, but in another minute, her eyes were closed. I grew so frustrated. I'm trying to make this woman understand me, even if from a perspective, which affirms some of her own biases (some of the families still think homosexuality is morally reprehensible), but she wouldn't even try. When she woke up after I walked away, she ended up staying up for the entire night. I guess she wasn't that tired.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The next morning, as I packed to leave, she asked if I could leave her a did of the documentary. I couldn't.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So I left the island, with a huge unresolved issue behind, but I am very glad the big secret is out. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm sure she will come around eventually. I'm sure she doesn't mean it when she says, "If I wasn't a Christian, I would beat you with a broom-stick and kick you out of my house." After all, I am still her baby.</span></span></div></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-78247750929936906892009-09-09T07:52:00.004+02:002010-02-20T11:21:39.507+01:00Gay in Kingston, Jamaica<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I spent a few days in Kingston, and what a blast it was! I identified more gay men in Kingston in three days, than all my life in rural Jamaica. I stepped off the bus from my parish, and my mentality changed. I wasn't alone; I knew it. Before long, my vision of urban utopia was jarred when a group of young men spoke loudly, just after passing them, that I am surely a homosexual. I continued on my merry way, as I don't yet have the courage to stare homophobes in their eyes and actively acknowledge their hateful words.<br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
Besides seeing many gay men walk by me in the streets, I spent some quality time with two gay friends of mine. One of them shares an apartment with another gay guy, who had two gay friends over. My friend's boyfriend had also planned to visit. 5 Jamaican gay men sharing the same space. I was too excited! It is different in America, because the experience that gay men have coming to terms with their sexualities is so diverse. Here though, I feel such empathy for my gay brothers, because I am fully aware of what each of us must face each time we leave the comfort of our homes and walk into the public sphere. It was nice to see gay men fraternizing, completely at ease and comfortable with themselves.<br />
<br />
The day I returned home, I sat in a mall reading a book when a handsome young man, who I believed was gay, walked by me. I couldn't help but stare. Not long after, I followed in his direction, as I had to head to the bus stop. I walked by him, as he stood near the staircase with two other friends. As I passed, one of them hissed, "gunshot for a boy." I shook my head, mystified. How could a gay man say such ugly words to another? Both of us have to live in the same fucked up world, and perpetuating homo-hatred will do nothing to serve our best interests. I was very tempted to turn around and stare into his eyes this time, but alas, the thought came too late.<br />
<br />
I can definitely see myself spending more time in Kingston. It's the most "real" I will ever be in Jamaica. It's the only place i've been able to gain some anonymity. I guess anonymity is an important factor to living without constant fear for the worse.<br />
<br />
____________<br />
<br />
I came out to my mother last week. It didn't go too well. More on that soon.</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-36048744559869962152009-08-17T23:28:00.002+02:002010-02-20T11:15:15.975+01:00Obeah. Molestation. Fear.<div style="text-align: justify;"><link href="file://localhost/Users/administrator/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link> <style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I started writing this post over 6 months ago, but never had the strength to finish it. Finally, I am able to articulate one of my darkest moments, and hopefully encourage someone to speak up about the abuse they have endured, or are enduring. Too many people are struggling with difficult memories. Sexual assault is too familiar in Jamaica for there not to be more first hand accounts of it. Here is my story: </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <br />
By the time I was 16 years old, I had long stopped going to church. Christianity made less sense to me as I grew, and nothing could convince me that my mother's newfound love for the lord didn't grow out of her desperate attempts to justify the series of misfortunes, which she had recently experienced. She was advised to attend a nearby church by an old friend. This friend claimed to recognize that my mother needed divine intervention, and told her to see the pastor as urgently as she could. One evening while coming from school my mother suggested that I stop by, and then go home with her after the ceremony. I was reluctant, but eventually I gave in, and obliged her. The church was small. It occupies a storefront in a street-side plaza, and could only accommodate about fifty people. The "Pastor" spoke from the front of the room, in front of an altar set up with consecrated water, and some other objects and fluids I cannot remember now. Is this man a pastor or an obeah man, I thought? <br />
<br />
Besides the traditional Afro-Jamaican approach to worship, there were more men than women, which is surely a rarity in Jamaica. The young, male ushers revered the pastor, subserviently wiping away every sweat, which poured out of his face. I sat through most of the service, but was forced to stand, when the pastor approached me and pulled me from my seat. I was so put off by it. My mother smiled slyly, as she was surely pleased with my forced participation in something she considers worthwhile. The pastor danced with me a bit, to a song I do not care to remember, in a manner typical of the other attendants. I felt out of place. Near the end of the service, he called on people to purchase the prayer rags he had blessed. Each cost $500, and was surely a bid to fatten his pockets. The rags bought last week no longer work he proclaimed, as their power had fizzled. At the end, everyone joined a queue to be anointed by him, with consecrated water that he and his elders had just prayed over. My mother insisted that I join the line, and again I reluctantly agreed. I went home with a bitter taste in my mouth, and vowed to never return. <br />
<br />
Pastor was known to have supernatural powers, which enabled him to find cures for illnesses. His insight into the supernatural enabled him to provide shrewd guidance, which my mother desperately sought. I told her I wouldn't be caught dead in his church ever again, but she told me that she needs the help and so will continue to support his ministry. It has often been said by his followers that he is god's representation on earth. It's not hard to tell that they regard him very highly. It was another few weeks again before I heard of him. There was a conference in Kingston that my mother wanted to attend. The church would rent a bus, and each patron would pay $500. He informed my mother however, that I could come for free. He told her that he loves bright little boys like myself. I didn't go, of course. One day, my mom told me he had said some things to her about me that she would like to share. This was June of 2006, a few weeks before my graduation from high school. I was in mortal danger. <br />
<br />
My academic success had earned me countess enemies, who I needed to watch out for. Only by being protected by the word of god could I escape harm. My mother was convinced this was true. My parents are not very trusting of anyone. Each person they meet is a possible enemy, who could have malicious thoughts about them. They have no friends, because only your friends can hurt you. I detest this kind of paranoia. I love people! I learn so much about myself through interacting with a diverse group of people. I trust people that I meet, and I think the best of them, unless I have a legitimate reason not to. I like to think I am a very good judge of character, and I am surrounded by many amazing people who I would trust with my life. I never believed in witchcraft, and I was never truly concerned about my mother's concerns. She told me I needed a bath, but I told her that would never happen, so we'd just have to wait and see what happened. <br />
<br />
Two weeks later, while on my way to school to rehearse for my graduation ceremony, my mother and sister were getting ready to go the Pastor's home. Mother asked me if I would like to come along, since I never needed to be at school until much later. I must have been feeling curious that morning, because I agreed. We arrived at his house, situated in a prominent community. We walk together by two big dogs, and step into his house. Just in the foyer, and the smell of dogs was overbearing. It is apparent that the dogs live in the house. On the walls are pictures of the pastor and what I believed to be his wife. He wasn't married then, but perhaps he had divorced his wife a while ago. There were about seven other people in the house at the time- seven men. I began then to think, maybe this guy is gay. The young men were in the kitchen, conversing and eating, some in nothing but boxers. They live here too? I wished then that I too lived in the house with them. <br />
<br />
We sat in a settee together, before being called into his office. He showed us his altar where he prays. I was very excited to observe the way he arranged his holy space. So this is what an obeah man's place is like, I reasoned. My mom negotiated payment for the services he was to perform. $10,000 today, and the next twenty in two equal installments. I would be done for free. We went back to the living room and sat for another few minutes. My mom and sister were waiting for a female elder in the church, while I was waiting for the Pastor himself. I was to be done first. I was carried off to a bathroom nearby, the entrance to my left. The bathroom was small, but it offered enough space for both of us to fit comfortably. In the near distance was a bath tub, which had a red pail filled with water in it. I am here for a bath after all. <br />
<br />
"Take of your clothes", he said to me. He left the room briefly, while I stripped to my white fruit of the looms brief. <br />
"Do I need to take off my brief as well?" <br />
"Yes, unless you want to get them wet." <br />
<br />
Oh dear. I had never been naked with another man before. Surely, I will get an erection, so how will I conceal it? The moment I pulled my briefs to my feet, blood rushed intensely to my groins. Oh dear. This is no happening. <br />
<br />
"Sir, I hope this is a typical reaction." He chuckled. <br />
<br />
He turned me away from him, and proceeded to pinch my thighs. Slowly his hands moved closer to my buttocks. His touches became more intimate, as he wrapped his hands around my waist, and began to grope for my erect penis. He wrapped one of his hands around my shaft, while the other caressed my left thigh. <br />
<br />
Wait, what is going on here? Is this what a bath entails? Did mommy have to endure this? No. Does he know I like men? Did I do or say something to suggest to him that I was? Does he really have heavenly powers to foresee that which is beyond my reality? What if my sister walks in now, will she think am an accomplice to this? Why did I come here? <br />
<br />
A million things raced through my mind. The Pastor chanted scripture and banished non-existent demons from me, while he roughly rubbed my penis back and forth. This went on for what felt like an eternity. At one point, I could swear his penis was against my body, but I was too scared to look. <br />
<br />
When would this end? You are not enjoying this. My grandmother is dead. The funeral was saddening. I cried. My sister and mother are outside this door. You are running through a rose field. You did well on your exams, no? There is only one window. It's square.<br />
<br />
I thought of everything except what he was doing to me. I could never make him think I enjoyed this... I can't believe mommy invited me to this place. He finally stopped, and led me into the bathtub. He sprayed some foul smelling aerosol all over my body, and then poured the water from the red bucket over my skinny frame. Do not turn to face him. Do not look into his eyes. He passed his tainted hands over my buttocks, which were now slippery from the spray. When will this end. <br />
<br />
I stepped out of the bath once he was done, and dried myself with a towel he handed to me. He left the room, much to my relief. Would my sister and mother know? How long was I here for? Why didn't I say something? I felt so dirty. He came back and told me to make sure I didn't say anything to mommy. OMG, he would know if I ever told her. He's psychic! I hurriedly put on my school uniform and walked briskly out to my family, trying my best to look natural. <br />
<br />
"FP are you alright?" Fuck, she knows something is wrong with me. <br />
"Yes sis, I'm fine." <br />
<br />
When are we leaving, I asked my mom? Can we please leave now? I need to get to school. They had both received the bath, and had time to sit waiting, while I was still in the bathroom. We couldn't leave. There was no way to get a taxi at the top of this hill, and so he would have to drive us to the main road. Shit! <br />
<br />
So we waited, and then boarded his car to be driven to the taxi stand. He and my mom conversed, but I don't remember anything that was said. Why did I have to come? I'm so stupid! <br />
<br />
For at least two weeks after, every minute of every day was spent replaying the series of events in my mind. Why did this have to happen to me? Why didn't I say something? Did I fancy the thought of being with a man so greatly that I didn't care to stop him? Would anyone say I would have rejected his advances if I hated what was happening so much? Would they be right? <br />
<br />
Even worse, the fucking smell of the spray was stuck to my body for two weeks. My flesh reeked of the molestation I endured at the hands of a pervert. No amount of washing and scrubbing would rid me of it. I can't take this anymore. I decided to tell my sister what happened. She was shocked, but also, she knew something had gone wrong, and was merely waiting for my admission. <br />
<br />
Please don't tell mommy. She can't know. <br />
<br />
But she did tell. <br />
<br />
Mommy seemed very upset at first, and she vowed to confront her pastor about what I said he had done to me. But that was not to materialize. She stopped going to the church, but she never confronted him. One day the three of us were in town, when he pulled up beside us. My sister realized that he was the one in the van, and dragged me away from the vehicle. <br />
<br />
"Don't you see it's him!" <br />
<br />
He spoke to my mother briefly, before driving off. Why was she talking to him? <br />
<br />
I dreaded bumping into him in town. It was very possible, considering the fact that I frequent a very small town, with only two parallel main roads. Thankfully, that meeting never materialized. I do not believe I could stand looking in his big, bulging eyes again. Perhaps today it is different. <br />
<br />
I spoke with my mother about it today. She told me that she believes some things should be left to God, and that what she did not do someone else will. I don't think that is enough. I still hold her partly responsible for what happened. <br />
<br />
It's uncanny how an outspoken person can be forced into silence by such an experience. Sometimes I am so upset with myself, that I could stand in that semi-lit room powerless, as this man robs me of a positive first sexual experience with a man. I have had to relive the horrors of that morning repeatedly, but now I have largely resolved the issues that this unfortunate experience has raised for me, and I am no longer afraid of him. I will never be violated in this way again. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-81030208060140698872009-08-15T15:19:00.003+02:002010-02-14T23:05:11.976+01:00Preteen Lesbians on a Jamaican School Bus<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was on a school trip recently, with about 40 pre-teens. At lunch, one girl ran off crying and the students were abuzz with apprehension. One student came to us (myself and a close friend of mine) and whispered, "Miss a because Miss Audrey call her lesbian." (Miss Audrey is one of the permanent employees of the school). Immediately, the only other permanent employee rushed over to her co-worker's defense, failing at her attempt to deflect blame to the children. It was more than obvious to me that she was merely trying to save her own ass. This is the story she told:<br />
<br />
Rishanna and Monique were sitting together for the entire bus ride. Rishanna had her arms around Moniques waist, with her hands "down there". So Miss Audrey told her to sit properly, or change seats because that kind of behaviour is not appropriate. The students know that if the principal was here on the trip that they could only hug around the shoulders. (Ammmm, ok). So then when the inappropriate behaviour persisted, Miss Audrey told her fi lego di pikni because they are not simese... and then Miss Audrey stuttered, and a student shouted out LESBIAN. Then comes Miss Audrey. "I did not say that. I would never say that word. The children are liars."<br />
<br />
Now if it's one thing I have learnt from working with Jamaican children is that they do not lie without ample reason. They are extremely frank, and blunt, and will say whatever is on their minds. Tishina, one of our most industrious students came to us afterwards and said, "Miss (they call me Miss, by the way) I will swear on the cross that dem call Rishanna lesbian." I believed her. The confirmation that Miss Audrey had referred to a pre-teen as a lesbian wasn't from Tishina, however, it was from Miss Audrey herself. While defending herself poorly (I didn't buy a second of it), she said at the end "she lives with her aunty who is a lesbian and she does anything around Tishina, so I know Tishina will do those things!" This is when I almost exploded. She did not just say that. Right?<br />
<br />
I said to my friend, I think I am going to withhold my tongue on this one. My friend agreed. I walked away. My close friends then had a talk with all the students about not calling other people names, and not being concerned about sex and sexualities, because they were too young. She comforted Tishina, and told her she could hug her friends however she'd like to.<br />
<br />
Can you imagine? You see two pre-teen girls hugging around the waist- two boys, and that would be something else- and you immediately assume that their friendship must be sexual? Are we so afraid of homosexuality that we must curtail homosexual physical contact on the whole from that stage? Paranoia I tell you. Miss Audrey and her colleage were absolutely "outavaada". They should feel lucky I said nothing to them.</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-8766463406242123532009-08-05T17:50:00.003+02:002010-02-20T12:01:04.043+01:00Nobody Asks to Fight in this Battle<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hate feeling like this. Every time I am reminded of the hurdles I face coming out to the world, I fall into a state of despondency.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I visited the home of one of my cousins. He committed suicide in 2002, or so we believe, based on the evidence available to us. I was just 13 then, and had never met him before (he visited the house for dinner years earlier, but I cannot remember). At the time, allegations loomed that he was gay. A drop dead gorgeous young man (I dug through albums to find pictures of him), it is believed that he was often beaten by his male lover- I’ll leave the evaluation of why such abuses often continue unabated in gay relationships, when societies are still hostile towards gay men. For whatever reasons, he stayed in the abusive relationship, until he took his life. He was found hanging from a rope in his home; his naked body swinging gently, suspended from a wooden post in his bedroom.<br />
<br />
He was just 25 years old. I imagined what it would have been like to visit the house with him there… acknowledging our common plight in a hostile world that hates us, and conversing about our varied experiences as gay Jamaicans. This, however, was not to be. Each time my father described him as a “batiman” my heart sunk, and a feeling of wretchedness welled up inside me. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to be comfortable using that word to describe myself.<br />
<br />
This feeling hasn’t left me. I feel as though I am unarmed for the battle I must soon fight. I’m prepared to lose people along the way, but that does not make the unfortunate reality any less painful.<br />
<br />
I’m going to rest my weary soul. My gumption has temporarily evaporated.<br />
</span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7636874014265207962.post-90546596193945122752009-07-29T00:13:00.005+02:002010-02-20T12:08:09.535+01:00Jamaican Bisexuals<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A few years ago, one of my brother's old classmates (4 years ahead) told me he wanted to be with me. This came as quite a shock, because I never dreamed he was gay, and further, he could remember things I did, or said, in high school of which I had no recollection. Creepy? Yes. We haven't spoken frequently since then, but when I came back he made an effort to reach out to me,<br />
<br />
I am not interested. Never was, never will be. Like many gay men in Jamaica, he is in a relationship with a woman; most of the 'gays' I meet identify as bisexual (or in order to avoid labeling themselves gay, they tell me they love people- I used that one once too). I have nothing against bisexuals, for I have met a few "true" ones in my short life. I labelled myself bisexual once too, just after I turned 17 and was coming out to myself. I met a few bisexuals then too :) After a couple of years, we spoke again and confirmed that we were now homosexual (gays and lesbians). You see, the term bisexual is much more palatable to a heterosexist/homophobic populace, than the term gay. You know it, and I know it.<br />
<br />
However, bisexuality seems to serve a different function for Jamaican gay men. It has to be their way of life. Not their sexuality, but their way of life </span></span><a href="http://revaluushan.blogspot.com/2009/07/homosexual-lifestyle.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(And this is what we call a lifestyle!!!)</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. This guy admitted to me that he loves the girl he is now with, but is largely attracted to guys. He will never leave her, he says. So it is imperative that she knows his boyfriend, and that his partners are comfortable with each other. "The family that has sex together stays together," he assured me. (he he he) By this time in the conversation I was about to explode- and not in the good way. He tells me, "she will want to watch us, and if she likes you she might participate. Participate? Excuse me!<br />
<br />
We talked about human sexuality for a while, and I told him I was gay. To my surprise, I was asked if I was totally that way- whatever does he mean? "You've never fucked a woman?" No, I have not and will not. "You aren't even the least bit attracted to women?" No, I am not. "So, couldn't you just like stick your dick in a hole and pop?" No, I cannot. And why would I ever need to? I don't put myself in awkward situations where such eventualities may arise! And how dare you describe a woman's vagina as "a hole"!<br />
<br />
But then it all made sense to me.<br />
<br />
This boy doesn't love women! He likes saving his ass from speculation about his sexuality. And let's be real now, what better way is there to do so (well, aside from getting a kid). His bisexuality is his survival mechanism, not his sexuality. I understand fully why this must be so, but I am also gravely disappointed- I don't know why. So many gays in Jamaica pass as straight- we need to survive now, so fair enough- but doing so requires that they lie about themselves and lead lives that I consider would be less fulfilling (I may be wrong, because everyone desires different things in life). But then I ask, If we don't stand up for ourselves, who will? I'm not suggesting that anyone start a one man campaign against homophobia, but the solution can't be to just wear a mask and pretend to not be affected by prejudice and fear of gay men.<br />
<br />
I will never enter into a three person relationship just so you can be protected from the 'shame and guilt' I am supposed to endure for being gay. You see, when you have a girlfriend you can always say, "Mi ano really batiman, a jos try mi did a try somting...si mi av mi gyal ya." That makes me very uneasy. I'll have to think about this some more. </span></span></div>Fiyu Piknihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02436637433989843647noreply@blogger.com48