The Unspeakable Truth

The Truth Has Been Told

2010-03-14T00:08:00.004+01:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Origin of Homosexuality in the Black Male

2010-03-10T16:59:00.011+01:00

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Blackmail: Battyman Pay Mi, or Else...

2010-03-07T12:40:00.007+01:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Take care,

Coming Out On Facebook

2010-03-01T18:01:00.010+01:00

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.

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").

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.

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.

"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

Dancehall & Reggae in France

2010-02-28T17:43:00.001+01:00

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Gay Men Policing Heterosexuality in Jamaica

2010-02-20T00:26:00.001+01:00

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.

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."

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.

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.

Live. Let-Live. Love.

Kirikou et la Sorcière: A Social Commentary

2010-02-11T18:37:00.158+01:00

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...

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:

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

I'll finish with a line from Kirikou:

Sometimes I am a little tired to fight on my own, and a little small and a little frightened.

But fight he did. And so should we.

** 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

Patwa Kaana: Di Graas Griina fi Chuu, Bot...

2010-02-08T19:08:00.002+01:00

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.

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.

Waa gwaan. Yu gaa mi skuul no?
Ye…waa yu stats.
We yu miin?
Blak ar wait. Ou taal/shaat. Ud lent. Kot ar ankot. Tap ar Batam. Fies picha.
Amm, yaa juok rait. Nuo? Taak tu yu lieta den.

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?

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!

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!

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.

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.

To Dad, With Love

2010-02-05T01:04:00.000+01:00

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."

"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.

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.

"FP, I hope you find a nice partner and settle down. And remember, always have safe sex." Wait, who abducted my father!!!

We Are the Masters of Our Fate

2010-01-16T16:28:00.002+01:00

Yesterday I watched the film Invictus, 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.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

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.

Annie John: A Gay Boy's Hero

2010-01-15T03:00:00.003+01:00

In grade 9 English Literature we studied the book Annie John, 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.

After looking at a summary of one of the chapters, I remembered why Annie's story stayed with me.

Chapter 6: Somewhere, Beligium

In this chapter, Annie is fifteen years old, and she imagines that she is unhappier than anyone else could possible be. I was also fifteen. I feet alone, yet everyone seems oblivious to the pain I felt. Her unhappiness cannot be traced to a simple factor, but thrives inside like a heavy black ball that is covered with cobwebs This is one of the symbols that I always remembered. Annie believes that this blackness inside makes everything that she once enjoyed appear sour.

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. I have had a mild obsession with Belgium to this day. 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. 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.

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. 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. 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." 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.

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. 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.

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. 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.

The book ends with the following line:

"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."

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. 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.

The Glass Closet + Gay Men in Jamaica

2010-01-10T18:03:00.003+01:00

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 The Glass Closet. 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.

"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%."

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.

Here are some of the videos created for the project:

Gays in Jamaica Worship in Underground Church

Violence and Venom Forces Gays to Hide

Jamaica's Battle Against Aids Fought in the Shadows

Ida's Story: Reversing the Stigma of HIV/AIDS in Jamaica

Check out the site by clicking here.

Homophobia Boosts IQ's in Jamaica?

2009-12-29T20:02:00.001+01:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

If this is true, that gay men perform much better than straight ones on average, why is this so?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Skinny-Jeans and Durags: Gay & Black Normativity

2009-12-26T20:26:00.005+01:00

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’.

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?

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.

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 .

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

The Inefficacy of American-led Boycotts Against Jamaican Homophobia

2009-11-05T04:47:00.004+01:00

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? The evidence on hand suggests that gay and lesbian Jamaicans who lead lives shrouded in fear and shame are not always a primary concern.

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.

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, An Op De (Throw Your Hands in the Air). The line in the promotional document reads:

“Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope.”

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:

“Ef yu bon batiman mek mi si di an a go op”

“Ang chichi gyal wid a lang piis a ruop”

Someone without an understanding of Jamaica’s sociolinguistic culture would translate these two lines in English as follows:

“If you burn homosexuals let me see your hands going up”

“Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope”

In the literal English that is reminiscent of the misinformed translations in the dossier, the chorus continues:

“Burn hypocrites, let me see the hands going up”

“Hang witch doctors with a long piece of rope”

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.

The advocacy group singles out and reduces the content of An Op De 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:

“If you disapprove of homosexual lifestyles, let me see your hands going up.

This clearly reads very differently than "burn homosexuals." Fi bon out sitn (to "burn" something or someone) is a spoken show of disapproval, or distaste. So Jamaicans "bon out" 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).

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.

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.

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.

We know what needs to be done. Let us do it well.

Ragashanti Interviews 'Male Cross-Dresser'

2009-11-04T00:22:00.002+01:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Gleaner on 'The Jamaican Gay Issue'

2009-11-03T06:39:00.003+01:00

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 'The Jamaican gay issue'. 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.

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.

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.

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.

A Mother Always Knows Best...

2009-10-22T01:01:00.003+02:00

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.

You would never believe the things she said to me:

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.

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.

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.

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.

If only they knew.

Failed Exorcism

2009-10-04T23:45:00.002+02:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I love myself. I love and appreciate the people around me. I love being happy.

Keep well, and love yourself always.

Me.

Coming Out to My Mother

2009-09-10T04:24:00.004+02:00

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.

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.

God. Sin. Anal Sex. Blood. Gender Incompatibility. Childhood. Effeminacy. Nature v Nurture. Love. Fear. Disbelief. Shock. Tears.

She couldn't sleep last night, and probably wont tonight either.

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.

~*~*~

*Knowing how deeply immoral homosexuality is, I should never have chosen that lifestyle for myself.

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.

*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.

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!

* 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.

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.

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.

*Sodom and Gomorra? Really?!

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.

She wants to put her hands to her head and holler out, crying. Okay.

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.

She used an interesting analogy to explain her reaction.

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.

I'm not sure if the cancer is a pun for my malignant homosexuality.

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.

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.

Thankfully, I am just days from freedom.

~*~*~

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.

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.

*"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?"

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.

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.

~*~*~

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.

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.

The next morning, as I packed to leave, she asked if I could leave her a did of the documentary. I couldn't.

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.

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.

Gay in Kingston, Jamaica

2009-09-09T07:52:00.004+02:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

____________

I came out to my mother last week. It didn't go too well. More on that soon.

Obeah. Molestation. Fear.

2009-08-17T23:28:00.002+02:00

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:

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Take of your clothes", he said to me. He left the room briefly, while I stripped to my white fruit of the looms brief.
"Do I need to take off my brief as well?"
"Yes, unless you want to get them wet."

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.

"Sir, I hope this is a typical reaction." He chuckled.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

"FP are you alright?" Fuck, she knows something is wrong with me.
"Yes sis, I'm fine."

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!

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!

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?

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.

Please don't tell mommy. She can't know.

But she did tell.

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.

"Don't you see it's him!"

He spoke to my mother briefly, before driving off. Why was she talking to him?

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.

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.

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.

Preteen Lesbians on a Jamaican School Bus

2009-08-15T15:19:00.003+02:00

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:

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."

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?

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.

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.

Nobody Asks to Fight in this Battle

2009-08-05T17:50:00.003+02:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

I’m going to rest my weary soul. My gumption has temporarily evaporated.

Jamaican Bisexuals

2009-07-29T00:13:00.005+02:00

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,

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.

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 (And this is what we call a lifestyle!!!). 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!

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"!

But then it all made sense to me.

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.

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.

The Gay "Lifestyle"

2009-07-28T19:15:00.005+02:00

I think it is time we retire the use of the term "lifestyle" in regards to gays and lesbians. People never talk about the "heterosexual lifestyle". True, because it is the norm, but also, it's ridiculous to consider someone's sexuality as a mere "lifestyle" choice (Well, if you are aware that people don't choose their sexualities). I decide to lead a healthy lifestyle today. And hey, why not throw in a "homosexual lifestyle" too!

Many people are hung up about homosexuality because of they are disgusted by anal sex. So the lifestyle you speak of, I am assuming, is the men-screwing-men lifestyle. Well suppose I only like to cuddle, caress and kiss my men, am I still living the "homosexual lifestyle"? And what if I only do it once a year? Still a lifestyle?

If you are gay or lesbian consider what it means when you use this term. Too often, we forget that language shapes perceptions! I don't think it helps for gays to talk about the "homosexual lifestyle". I have a wonderful family; I go to school; I have amazing friends; I volunteer. My gay lifestyle? It doesn't really fit in there. I am attracted to men. It's not as active a phenomenon as the word "lifestyle" may lead one to believe.

If you find yourself using the same language as homophobes to describe your sexuality, then maybe, just maybe, you are hurting your own cause. I wish the media would stop using this term, which I believe greatly influences people's belief in the mutability of (homo)sexuality.

Teaching in Jamaica is Hard Work

2009-07-23T22:35:00.003+02:00

For two weeks this summer, I will help to facilitate a summer camp for grade five students in Jamaica. I have always been convinced that with an approach appropriate to student’s competencies and cultural context, they can learn. After just three days, however, I am left scratching my head. I am at my wits end as to how I can help these students understand the material they need for the GSAT exam, and more importantly, their future. I have realized that I am not cut out to be an educator, for I do not possess the requisite patience to govern children who seem to have missed the memo about why they come to school. Let me detail some of my experiences here, so you too can understand my frustrations.

My primary teaching role at the camp is instructing three classes of pupils in Language Arts/ Communication Skills and Drama. These children have no reservations when it comes to expressing themselves in the nation’s language, until they are called upon to share an opinion. And let me tell you, when a child tells you they won’t participate, they are serious. No amount of coddling, beseeching, or guilt tripping, will make a difference. I always felt children learn better in an environment where they are made to feel as though their opinions matter. Collaboration is key, and so long as you establish that modus operandi, people would not be shy about sharing a view. WRONG!

The most expressive child goes quiet when called upon- if even for a few seconds. Their faces relax; their eyes fixate on some point in my direction, but never at my own; their limbs go limp. They look almost mournful. Their peers start to giggle. Stinging epithets are exchanged between the individual in the spotlight, and their heckling classmates, before their stoic expressions return. It’s almost as if they forget the questions they were asked in their bid to avoid contributing to the discussion at hand- to avoid giving an incorrect response. I am waiting Shatika, the class would like to hear your thoughts. Shatika is adamant; she will not speak. In the interest of the time, I must move on.

I was troubled, so I took the time to ask them why they think, personally, that they freeze when called upon to contribute to the learning experience in the class. They seemed to be listening intently, and their expressions suggested that they understood what I was asking, but when I prodded them for responses, again, they froze. The classrooms are located in one building. Each of five classrooms is partitioned by two blackboards, beneath which the feet of students in the other class can easily be observed- the students make ample use of this design feature. The walls of the classroom are decorated with stylish see-through blocks and windows, through which every sudden flash of colour or the source of outbursts of sound is identified by the curious students. Chatter, shouts and laughter from every other class is heard in my own, and it is often impossible for me to hear myself speak. The children seem more concerned about all the exciting things going on around them more than my voice, droning on about the importance of committing that day’s lesson to memory.

Today I taught pronouns and parts of speech in class. Elementary? Certainly, yet, these are concepts that they have not mastered.
"Verbs are action or doing words," their voices ring out in a chorus.
Okay, so give me a verb and use it appropriately in a sentence.
"RUNNING, EATING, TALKING, DANCING.’ Their voices are a most annoying cacophony. That’s a remarkable vocabulary you have there! Okay, what is an adverb?
"A word that modifies an adjective, verb or adverb."

Good, so name one and use it in a sentence. Then their eyes roll towards some point away from me. Silence permeates the still, hot air, and I sigh in desperation. They’re listening, or at least I think they are, yet they do not understand the material. I repeat the same material from yesterday, but still it is foreign to them. When I ask for the part of speech of the word "slowly", rest assured that all five parts of speech mentioned the day prior would be offered as an answer.

I read five sentences written by one girl today. She completely misplaced subject pronouns for object pronouns in the first, and it was my job to highlight where she had gone wrong. When I asked her if she remembers yesterday's lesson about pronouns, she said in a sombre voice, "no." She is in grade 5. "Him must put down some money an pay the man him rent, because him not to live on the man land." Again, I sighed heavily, this time in exasperation. I’m not giving up just yet. I still have another week to figure out how to, even to a small degree, rectify the structural and cultural realities, which affect these children’s ability to learn.

And, to think that teachers are poorly paid!

Billy Elliot

2009-07-21T21:15:00.002+02:00

Even though I haven't been updating this blog recently, I have still been writing. I just managed to make three different posts. I swear, the motivation to write disappears when one loses access to the internet.

But, finally...

I just saw the film Billy Elliot, for the millionth time. Have you seen it? It is such an amazing movie! Aside from me finding some difficulty understanding the accents of the actors, the themes explored in the film resonate well with me- for obvious reasons. I look forward to the time when my family will be proud to see me in whatever capacity I find myself, as an openly gay man.

I find myself watching and re-watching films with gay themes recently. It's My Party, Prayers for Bobby, For the Bible Tells Me So, Boys Don't Cry, Milk, Noah's Arc- Jumping the Broom. I lived without representations of queer culture and people for such a long time, that I revel in my newfound collection of timeless films that inspire me to be proud of my sexuality. I once thought it was my greatest burden, but it is now turning into one of my strengths.

Older Gay Men...

2009-07-21T21:07:00.001+02:00

So last summer, I met an older gay man in the streets while walking home one night. I spent the day with my old classmates at the beach, then left for home at around 10 pm. While walking, an older gentleman came up to me and asked if he had met me before. I said no, but he continued. "Are you sure? Which high school did you go to?" I was too naive at the time to realize that this was his conversation starter. He told me he was a primary school teacher in Brown's Town, and I tried my best to appear interested by asking him questions about his job, and the education system in general. He asked if I would like to sit somewhere and talk. Despite being really tired, the conversationalist in me said, "sure."

Things got awkward the moment we sat down, because he started to get a little personal. Not one to engage in conversation with random old-er guys, I wasn't sure if my present relationships, sexual history, and whereabouts in Jamaica, were standard talking points. He went on to reveal that he had seen me a week earlier, standing with a woman he guessed was my mother. Good guess. He had wanted to approach me then, but wasn't sure who the woman was. Since then, he had been keeping an eye out for me. Creepy? Yea, just a little bit.

It got creepier when he said to me, "I have a hard-on, would you like to touch it?" Then he proceeded to describe his penis to me, and what he would do to me if I ever went home with him. I was not amused. I told him it was time for me to go home, but he beckoned me to stay, because surely I had a hard-on too. How highly he thinks of himself. You might wonder why I never left if I truly found the situation uncomfortable. This was the first time a man hit on me, so it was a novel experience I tried to savour, once he established that he was gay and that he liked me. He kept calling me, "my pretty little boy," which I found annoying, but I obliged him, because I too had an agenda.

"So what is it like being gay in Jamaica?" Of course, I understand what this means for me, but one- I do not live here, and two- I have no plans to get a boyfriend and settle in Jamaica. He went on to tell me how difficult it is. He says there are gays around, but hooking up is hard for him. He lives with his mom close to Ocho Rios and needs some company every now and again. "I can give you money," he offered.

After what seemed like an hour, I was adamant that I needed to go home, and so we left our public meeting place. While walking to the bus stop I assured him that I would be fine, and that he could be on his way. We exchanged formalities, then I crossed the street away from him, and went to buy a drink at a gas station. Lo and behold, I stepped out of the store to see him standing at the door. "I was a bit worried about you. I want to make sure you get home safely." Oh dear me! "Can I have some of your drink?" His smile hinted at some misplaced sexual innuendo. He must be kidding, I thought. Am I supposed to be happy he is concerned about me? "No, I will not share my drink with you." Sir, I am fine. I do not need to be walked to the bus stop. He insisted, and again, I gave in.

We stood awkwardly at the bus stop, while I waited. A taxi came soon, and we said our awkward goodbyes. I wouldn't see him again until another ill-fated day in Ochi. There are two roughly parallel main streets in Ocho Rios. If someone is in town, there is a very high chance you will bump into them. So I'm walking down the street and I see this man bustling up in my direction. My mind starts to race, and I resolve not to acknowledge him. Let's be honest, he's creepy. Just when I though he had passed without seeing me, I heard someone shout out just behind me, "HI!" I turned to face him- ina di middle a Ochi- then he said, "yu don't memba mi?" Holy Fuck this is awkward, I thought. I told him I was in a hurry, and needed to be on my way. I managed to avoid his eyes the entire time. Whew!

Another day, about a month later, I walked into Island Grill with my sister, and saw this man standing at the cashier. "Sis, that is him!" I looked away from the cashier, praying that he doesn't approach me. When he left she says to me, "Hey, he was staring at you the entire time." We went upstairs to eat, and as I looked out the windows, would you believe I saw the man looking in our direction from the second floor of a building adjacent to ours!!! Thank heavens I was with someone, for surely he wouldn't resist the urge to strike up another conversation.

I know the day will come when we must meet again; Jamaica is a small country, and Ocho Rios is a small town. I think I know what I must do to hold him off next time though, speak in Patwa. There is no greater turn off than to be dismissed in Patwa. English is far too polite to serve my purpose with this stalker.

Ever been stalked before? What's your story...

My Boyfriend is Gay: Ragashanti

2009-07-14T17:50:00.002+02:00

I was listening to Ragashanti this morning, and I was fortunate enough fi kech the conversation just when a woman called to talk about her experience with someone on the DL. Her story was quite moving, especially at the climax when she catches her boyfriend having sex with his best friend. She wept as she remembered the ordeal. Her story is very typical: woman loves man dearly. Believes with her heart man is faithful to her and committed to lifelong relationship. They have a child. Woman comes home and hears man having sex with someone. Opens door and is shocked to find him with his best friend. Man cries that he is not really gay. Man emphasized that he is the top- as she witnessed. Woman is embarrassed, and feels inadequate. Woman leaves man.

In this story though, the plot thickened. The man seems to have stayed with his boyfriend, who died two years after the incident- from AIDS. The man calls the woman to inform her of his misfortune- losing a loved one- and begs her forgiveness. Even more, he also has AIDS and has no one else to turn to... He begs her fi tek im bak. This woman, having a heart of gold, decides to take him back and care for him. I salute her courage and kindness.

Raga then went on a rampage about the despicable act of gay men dating women, for the reason that the deceit inherent in such action is most selfish. I agree. He clarified that people who are gay will always be gay, and that the idea that we can convert gay people should be scrapped. Thank you Raga. I was still somewhat disappointed with his evaluation of the situation, however. Surely it is understandable that gay men in Jamaica will enter into heterosexual unions to deflect questions regarding their (homo)sexuality. It is not excusable behavior, because people get hurt, but it is clear that the homophobic situation in Jamaica dictates that such eventualities will be commonplace. I would have liked him to acknowledge this reality.

Cheating is bad, no matter the sexual exploits of the cheater. Deceiving a partner in such a malicious way should be frowned upon no matter the circumstances. I can now imagine that many are saying, "A so battyman carry AIDS come ina people house all the time." And if that is all we can learn from this woman's experience, then we learnt very little. I am still glad she was brave enough to share her story with Jamaica this morning. While it is true that it portrayed gay men very negatively, we are no longer invisible.

Hitting on Men in Jamaica

2009-07-08T02:20:00.004+02:00

I feel so amazingly good right now. Can’t quite place the feeling. I have been thinking long and hard about how I can advance the LGBT human rights movement in Jamaica, and I feel hopeful. I just need some people to work with. I’ve emailed J-Flag a few times, but it seems the organization is busy, because it is not very responsive (or there are just a few people running the operation and they are overwhelmed). Either way, I am here to help, and I need someone to bounce some ideas off.

Last year, a young man walking closely behind me asked, “a how come yu wan a hot up the place so,” and I was dumfounded. I turned to him and said, “excuse me?” haha

Memories. At the time I thought, but this boy wants to get me into trouble man. And also, what if he had guessed wrongly? Well he didn’t. But still, that is not something I have the guts to do in Jamaica just yet. I love my life too much.

Two years ago I dreaded returning to Jamaica. I’m proud of myself for growing so comfortable with the place. It’s still scary… but I am finding it progressively easier to live with it. It's exactly two months before I return to school- I better make every day count!

Women's Rights vs the Religious Right

2009-07-05T19:33:00.001+02:00

Every woman should have the right to regulate the number of children she bears. In some countries, this statement is indubitable, the resolution of a long fought women’s rights movement. Framing discussion about abortion around its perceived immorality is convenient for the pious among us, for Jamaicans are so-called religious people, whose knowledge of scripture will mandate their rejection of laws supporting a woman’s right to abort an embryo. This approach is retarding the women’s rights movement, in a sexist society where the patriarchal oppression of women is commonplace.

We speak superficially of gender equality, but Jamaica is far from the ideal. The high rates of sexual abuse, in the home and workplace, sexual assault and rape perpetuated against women speak volumes to the grave inequalities, which still prevail. Further, the degree to which our women are objectified, commodified, and de-humanized in popular culture, is a good measure of the slight with which many regard women. Concerning abortion, we continue to hear multifarious horror stories about women who regret having one, but few accounts of women who illegally aborted embryos, then went on to lead successful lives with children that have loving and emotionally stable parents.

A recent report published in the Gleaner says that 70 % of Jamaicans believe that women who become pregnant because of rape should not have an abortion. By propagating such impressive statistics, self-serving moralists seek to deny women the right to control their reproductive capacity. Jamaicans like to talk about ideals, so I am not surprised by the poll results, though they are highly suspect; most will speak out against abortion when prompted, and espouse their preference for adoption. In reality, many of these people would abort an embryo if their circumstances necessitated such action, and are unwilling to adopt a child into their family themselves, for adopted children are widely regarded as inferior to biological ones. Also, what percentage of the individuals polled were male? Begetting children is the marker of manhood in Jamaica, so I expect that Jamaican men should overwhelmingly oppose abortions, which detracts from their ersatz masculinity. This despite the reality that many cannot afford to take care of the multitude of children they lend their sperm to create.

Women’s rights must come from the people, but sadly, the momentum is lacking. Jamaican women deserve better, and the right to determine how many children they have is only one of the privileges they must be allowed. The anti-abortion lobbyists are puppets of a patriarchal oppressor, whose antiquated modus operandi should be rejected by the Jamaican government. 7/5/09

Yaa Battyman? No. Aawuo!

2009-07-05T16:26:00.002+02:00

Here in Jamaica, I can never get tired of being asked that question. In America, at least on my college campus, it is a politically incorrect one, as is the question which usually follows an affirmative response, "so, are you a top or a bottom?" But Jamaicans haven't cultivated enough sensitivity to LGBTQ people to know what is appropriate, so I will gi dem a blai.

I speak very confidently about Jamaica's misguided approach to "the homosexual problem," and apparently, non-queer Jamaicans aren't very vocal about the necessity for our culture to respect and even appreciate variances of human sexuality, which materialize between consensual adults. Every time I open my loud mouth someone asks, "so which one are you?" And I smile. The answer shouldn't matter, but it does. Ef mi a difen batiman den mi a mos wan. If I was straight, then I could just laugh and say, "Mi straight man, si mi bups ya!" Aawuo, yu kuda neva bi... And then, nothing changes.

The prejudice wiggles, then firmly roots itself into their psyche again. There I thought she was listening to me. She, for I would never engage a Jamaican man in such a conversation. Still, my week was a success, because I helped three Jamaicans think on a perspective different from any they ever imagined. Gays are people. Different, but not abnormal. They are our doctors, our sisters and brothers, our children, our sick, our homeless and our friends.

I'm Coming Out... But Not Yet.

2009-07-02T05:52:00.004+02:00

Two days ago my brother asked me if I was gay. For a split second, I almost said yes. He said it most casually, even jokingly, after looking at my clothing and suggesting that my style is like that of Jamaican gay men. I was caught off-guard, and I considered my promise to myself to never lie if confronted. But I hesitated long enough for my sister to say, "are you joking, of course he is not!" Now, the uncomfortable discussion about my homosexuality has been postponed, but it wont be long before it returns. He also said, "you could never be gay. Don't you want to make beautiful babies like mine?" I wasn't amused, but I held back. Is there any easy way to just say it?

I AM GAY!

If only...

Aborting a Baby/ Terminating a Pregnancy

2009-06-07T06:38:00.002+02:00

Yesterday, I had a very informative discussion with two female friends about 'abortion'. Let me share some of the things we discussed.

For too long women did not have a chance to determine when they had children, and how many children they had to care for. They got pregnant, and then they were housewives- slaves of a patriarchal system of oppression. Concurrent with this view, I believe that a woman who desires to terminate a pregnancy she should be able to do so.

Now this is the scenario I was given: Mary has already terminated seven pregnancies. How can I give her a right to continue, when she clearly has no regard for the gifts of life she persistently throws away.

Now of the majority of women who terminate pregnancies, how many have already terminated seven? Birth control options are innumerable, and many sexually active people make use of them. Where the condom fails, the famed after-morning pill comes to the rescue. Still these options sometimes fail, and a woman finds herself pregnant with a child-to be that she cannot care adequately for. She decides to terminate the pregnancy, and I support HER decision.

We must be careful to understand where we stand on such controversial matters. It can't be that we believe some things are wrong because that is what we were taught. 'Abortion' is morally wrong, we say. Yet in Jamaica, adoption isn't exactly romanticized... the hypocrisy kills me.

My friends spoke of the significance of the decision being made, and I asked them, why they felt the decision had a lot of weight. Women are tortured by their decision they say, without acknowledging that our stigmatization of the act is in large part what makes the decision sometimes difficult. Women who terminate pregnancies in Jamaica do not talk about it, and so they are constantly plagued by their decision. For women who regret their decision, I do not believe the main reasons is always their worry that they "destroyed" a form of "life". Child bearing is still such a big qualifier for female adulthood, and this is something than needs to change- it's the same thing for Jamaican men. The more children, the more manly.

I always say this- the fact that women can have children does not in itself preclude that they must. Only heaven knows how my life would fare if I decided to populate the earth with my seeds, like I have the capacity to do. This world is not fair, but there are things we can do to make it more so... Women are now able to work amongst men in most professions, but instead of helping them to achieve equality, their employment now serves to maintain their subjugation, as they must still work in the home as well. If we want to respect our women, open more adoption agencies, adopt children, open baby-care centers for newborns so that women can return to work after their pregnancies.

Use condoms. Do a vasectomy. Plan for your family. We wouldn't need to ponder the ethical complications of "abortions" if we were more responsible.

The Relationship between Patwa and its Lexifier

2009-06-07T04:14:00.001+02:00

Today a friend and I spoke of the relationship between Patwa and English, revealing some misconceptions about our native language, that many Jamaicans still hold. English is the lexifier language for Jamaican Creole, and so many of our words have roots in that language. What they fail to realize is that the meaning ascribed to the many appropriated words is often nuanced, and at times completely different.

Many who hear Jamaica Creole make the mistake of identifying the English root words and then proclaiming, oh I understood that! As a matter of fact, it is not that simple.

Take the following sentence. Context is very important here, so... Two young men are in a fiesty confrontation. One of them shoves the other, and he exclaims:

"Ef yu toch mi agen mi ago tel yu bout yu mada!"
The non speaker/ patwa hater hears this and says, I know what you said. They assemble all the English roots in their heads, and come up with an idea of what must have been meant.

"If you touch me again, I will tell you about your mother."

Maybe this is just me, but I wouldn't translate the original line to English in that manner. Doing so takes away from the potency of the language, and the complexity of the ideas that are expressed with these approportaions.

"If you insist on bothering me further, I will be not restrain myself from giving you a piece of my mind."

Some would say, well I don't think that is what you mean. Tell me, what do I mean then? Clearly, offering to tell someone about their mother, may have no effect whatsoever on an individual not accustomed to the culture.

Similarly, I could say, "Mi wii lik yu dong ino!" Directly translated to be, "I will hit you!" but really, I never intent to hit anyone when I speak these words. Of course, some people do, so I wouldn't suggest using these words against someone you were onthe brink of war with... BUT! The poitn remains, that simplistic approaches to translating Jamaican Creole, using the words of the lexifier language from which many words in Patwa come, is a malicious attempt to perpetuate the perception that Jamaican Creole is but a fegenerate form of English.

Give us some credit please. I wonder if people similarly try to discredit the merits of Spanish and Portuguese as languages, because of their striking similarities and their heavy borrowing from Latin.

Unu lou di ting yaa man! Patwa mi a difen!

Misogyny in Jamaican (Dancehall) Culture

2009-05-18T05:26:00.003+02:00

Jamaica is famous for its nightlong street dances. Friends tell me they get all the Passa Passa DVD’s in New York. Following the “dagarin” phenomenon, which celebrated the objectification and dehumanization of our women, a more disturbing form of entertainment seems increasingly prominent in Dancehall- that of jumping on open-legged women, without concern for the woman’s physical health, before thrusting violently at the waist, and oftentimes turning acrobatically on the ground, which supposedly increases the perceived entertainment value of the act. I judge this based on the proliferation of You Tube videos displaying this barbarity. Such misogynistic displays of Jamaica’s patriarchal social constructions must end!

Let me take you through the two-minute video that I watched recently. A woman sits in a bucket and has water thrown on her. A young man, about 40 feet away, prepares himself for running down the path that was cleared by eager spectators. He runs up, somersaults, and in an almost slow motion sequence flies through the air, with his rear end landing squarely on the woman’s head. Her back was bent to the ground, her hands were outstretched as she prepared herself for the worst, but the weight of his body was too great. She was knocked unconscious, or worse, dead. The man stood up proudly, cheered by the crowd, and then lies down on the woman, thrusting at the hip, while he tried to wake her up. When he realized she was unconscious, he sought to lift her, while others through water on her face. Her head bobbed from side to side, while the stentorian commentator made jokes about her possible death. The crown was feverish. At least four people carried her off into the darkness. The video continued, as the somersault and the landing were repeated twice, presumably for my viewing pleasure. This is deeply disturbing.

Even more disturbing was the comments made by a few of the viewers. One was, “LMAO wow” (lmao is instant messaging jargon for “laughing my ass off”) while another read, “lol amazing.” These reactions, and those of the spectators horrify me, for they are symptomatic of more serious problems crippling our society. Jamaica hates women. Of this, I am sure. We speak of how much “wi lov wi uman dem”, but our rates of domestic abuse, assault, rape, workplace sexual abuse, and the like against women, tell an entirely different story. The economy is important, as is our escalating crime rates, but so is this. Acts of misogyny are far less quantifiable, but arguably much more destructive to a developing society.

Street dances should not take place without having police officers, or other medically trained personnel, present. If that woman had any broken vertebrae, or a slight chance to live, the immediate response of the ignorant crowd damaged her spinal chord, and otherwise killed her. I am OUTRAGED!

If you have facebook, see video HERE. Be warned though, it is very graphic, and may not be appropriate for the weak-hearted.

A Humbling Experience

2009-05-11T05:27:00.002+02:00

"Humility does not mean thinking less of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean having a low opinion of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking about yourself at all." ~William Temple

Dusk had crawled upon me, signalling the end to my day off from school. My mother was in America working to repay her many debtors and I was left at home with my sister. At sixteen years old I was given the responsibility of caring for my household, a duty I carried out effortlessly until that night. My sister came to me at 8 pm telling me that she needed to go to the hospital because she had been vomiting uncontrollably. I explained to her that we had no money and so she would have to wait till the weekend. She walked away without complaint, nevertheless my conscience was disturbed.

I woke up at 2 am the next morning to complete my studying for the next day of school. I listened keenly as my sister staggered into the bathroom and vomited repeatedly. I realized then I would have to take her to the hospital as soon as daylight broke. I decided to try to call my brother who worked in the capital city to see if he could help, but when I asked my sister to recall his number, she started speaking gibberish. The gravity of the situation had hit me hard, my sister was nearing comatose state, so I panicked, running to a neighbor before turning back into the house of her imminent eternal repose.

I could not muster the courage to ask for help because such help would necessitate me revealing the extent of my family's financial woes. The pride I felt for my family's status in the community was too strong. Instead, I ran to another neighbor asking to use her phone. She asked me what was wrong, having seen my tear stained face. All guards broke down, as I was forced to recall the series of events that led to me being on her doorsteps. She rushed over to the house and screamed upon seeing my sister, "She’s going to die! Lord Jesus!" I continued to sob as this Saviour prepared my now unresponsive sister for the hospital. Upon arriving within two hours she responded to treatment.

The pain of almost causing my sister’s death because of family or questionably self-pride, still rips at my humanity. However, I have learnt to do what is best for an individual especially in times of crisis without regard for one’s own inclinations. A life is too precious to be compromised with silly pride. I am eternally grateful to my neighbor who rushed to see my sister; never once thinking of her plans for that day and the inconvenience that rushing to the hospital and using her own money would cause her. Humility really does mean, freedom from thinking about one’s self, a lesson I learnt the hard way.

Skin Bleaching in Jamaica

2009-05-08T05:29:00.003+02:00

I have always been aware of the pervasiveness of the practice of skin bleaching in Jamaican culture. Lighter skin is romanticized in ways that compel one to wonder whether our political independence has forged any mental emancipation from the feelings of inferiority that were entrenched in our black foreparents. Every time I return home, one of the first things people remark about my appearance, is my failure to lighten up, even a little bit. "Weren't you in Canada," they ask? I roll my eyes in contempt at their observations, for I find my black skin beautiful.

The inferiority of blacks in reinforced in numerous ways in Jamaica. I wont claim to know all of them, but the follwing are some that come to mind:

Our native language, which has been shaped by the languages of our African acestors, is still deemed inferior as a means of communication. We have emphasized the innapropriateness of speaking this language, so much so that even those who speak it more fluently than English will proclaim the need to speak properly. There is no material value in speaking Patwa, so we should not speak it. How shortighted we are as a people.

Telling someone, se dem blak laik, still evokes emotions of anger and the will to retalitate. Boggles my mind why this is still so in a country where the overwhelming majority of people are black.

Our emphasis on tourism as an economic indursty. Of course, we don't have many choices when it comes to growing an economy, I am just making an empirical claim here. When I was younger I never realized that everyone in the world wasn't struggling to get by. As I grew older, I recognized that some people had large disposable incomes, and that many of these people came to Jamaica to revel in their superior economic position. They were predominantly white.

We still romaticize light skinned individuals, who are considered to be more attractive. Being "brown" is an attribute, which people note when noting someone's alleged beauty.

***

A nation cannot be built on the shoulders of nationals who do not have faith in their self worth, and the inherent value of their common histories and potential futures. Skin bleaching is a symptom of larger social defects, which need to be resolved if post-colonial societies must advance in accordance with their potentials.

Staceyann Chin: The Other Side of Paradise

2009-05-06T01:55:00.002+02:00

Yesterday I met an openly gay Jamaican woman, whose knack for comedy and messianic oration about her life in Jamaica, held the attention of some 90 students in a class on Adolescent Development. I was completely blown away by her ease of mind, and the frankness with which she discussed deeply personal and moving tales of abandonment, abuse, and ultimately liberation. I was proud to call myself Jamaican alongside her, and I look forward to meeting with her again sometime soon.

While listening to her read from her book, flashes of my own childhood came rushing back. I was so heartened by her ability to overcome the challenges she faced, while simultaneously reminding myself, that there was indeed a light at the end of the tunnel of despair that was my youth.

I asked her about her exile in America, and she spoke resolutely of having to LIVE, using her pasts to motivate her ambitions. She repeatedly reminded the audiences she spoke to not to pity her, because now she is living a good life. She said that it is somewhat hurtful to be forced to leave home on account of preserving one's safety. But she reminded me that it is a necessary choice that one must make, if they are to live happily.

I bought her new book, in which she signed the following words: "May our voices ring louder than our fears." A most germane reminder of the need for us to speak out against the injustices wrought upon our misunderstood brother/sisterhood.

Buy the book- it's worth every penny!
http://www.amazon.com/Other-Side-Paradise-Memoir/dp/0743292901

When Home is not Home

2009-05-06T00:45:00.001+02:00

When I left Jamaica two years ago, I was sure I would never return to live. I giggled nervously as I sat in the plane in Montego Bay, excited about the new world that awaited me in Canada. Weirdly enough, my love for Jamaica grew while I was away, and instead of constantly trying to run from the labyrinthine complexity of Jamaica's social problems, I desired to work to find solutions to them.

For over a year, the horrid reports of social dysfunction, which graced the pages of the Gleaner, haunted my every thought. I threw tantrums; I cried; I complained; I wrote. One wonders why, when the very society I started to care deeply for made me an outcast in my youth- I hated myself growing up, and constantly wished myself dead. I have come to a point now when I must acknowledge my obligations to my family; but I cannot continue to live like this--- constantly aching for solutions that are not forthcoming. Even if they were, there is not much that I could do to actually implement them.

I always asked of others, "if we don't go home, who will?" But I now understand why people stay away. I must now allow my individual aspirations to be stymied by fantastical visions of what Jamaica is to be. Frankly, I am tired of waking up each morning with the weight of a nation on my conscience. This of course is a symptom of my own weaknesses. Javed, WAKE UP!!! I finally made up my mind, I will not live in Jamaica anytime in the near future. Hopefully now I can set my sights on other, more attainable ambitions.

I hasten to remind myself of the reasons I desired to leave my island home in the first place. They weren't petty then and certainly aren't today.

Patwa Gaan Abraad!!!

2009-04-27T21:54:00.002+02:00

Last year, I petitioned my university's language waiver committee when they overlooked my request to have my language requirement waved on the basis of my proficiency in Jamaican Creole. Every student must take language courses besides English, unless they can prove that they speak another language, or are from an area of the world where they are likely to be fluent in other languages. I questioned the decision of the registrar, who then referred me to a linguistics professor to whom I had to prove my fluency in a non-English language.

I was asked to describe the language situation in Jamaica, in Patwa, and I'll tell you- it was hard!!! It had never been necessary for me to speak Patwa formally, for I was always inclined to speak English in academia. But this time, I had to do this for the sake of my language. The professor said he would have to deliberate with his collegues further, even though he agreed that Jamaican Creole is a legitimate language, for some might have reservations about its position as a language form.

Four months later (yesterday) I received a letter, which pronounced that my request was granted, and that I had satisfied the language requirement on the basis of Jamaican Creole!!! I was thrilled, to say the least. So many told me it couldn't be done... that Patwa was too close to English for my request to be given much validity; that is is merely a "dialect". They were wrong!

Mi no ina no aagiment wid nobadi agen bout weda Patwa a langgwij. The linguists have spoken. Nou enibadi we kom ya frahn Jumieka naago afi du no muo langwij ef dem no waahn, kaa di skuul don rekagnaiz Patwa. Aal nou mi kyaahn biliiv tu raatid. Mi wehn swier se dem wehna go kaal mi iin fi wahneda roun a diskoshan, aalduo mi wehn redi fi dem. A tuu langgwij mi chat! Bruce kyahn gwaan ron aaf ihn mout bout ou wi fi laan Spanish ahn French. I no mek muo sens wi staat wid wa evribadi nuo fos? Mi don taak.

Mi baan ahn gruo a taak Patwa, an nou mi kyahn se a fimi fos langgwij fi chuu. Yaav prablem wid dat? Gwaan go tek i op wid di rejischraar.

Patwa tu di worl! A ful taim nou!

Combating Homophobia in Schools

2009-04-24T03:05:00.002+02:00

This is an extract from an an essay about homophobia in American schools.

Enshrining protection for LGBT youth:
A herculean fight against institutionalized heterosexism and homophobia

“Homosexuality is a sin against mankind; pure evil and wickedness!” “The gay agenda in public education must be squashed at all costs!” These and other similar sentiments colour the viewpoints of the strident opposition, which confronts every effort to introduce LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender) issues into the curricula of American schools. Recurrently, studies show that the experiences of children and adolescents in school directly affect their achievements and general outcomes as adults. It is disconcerting then, to note that throughout the last two decades, right wing, religious conservatives have successfully worked to inflame public prejudices against queer individuals, in an effort to impede the introduction of content regarding LGBT issues in school curricula. This has been to the detriment of queer youth, who suffer an indeterminable amount of harm from verbal and physical harassment. The statistics regarding the challenges faced by these ‘at risk’ youth are compelling and are bolstered by additional studies, which point to widespread heteronormativity, and homophobia in school environments. A survey conducted by the campaigning and lobbying group Stonewall, indicated that teachers were the occupational group who found it most difficult to be open about their sexuality in the workplace. In a pressing effort to mitigate the destructive impacts of institutionalized homophobia , school policies must be reformed to ensure that schools can guarantee every child’s safety, and their attainment of emotional, physical, and educational wellbeing. There is no easy way to achieve this. In this essay, the two main approaches to reform, through platforms of “multiculturalism” and “public health awareness” will be carefully examined, with the premise that, though they are far from unproblematic, they go a far way in advancing the interests of the many disenfranchised LGBT students. Achieving legislative protection for queer pupils will necessitate overcoming heterosexual hegemony, and the homophobia with which it functions simultaneously; this is primarily a battle between queer activists and evangelicals, but it is education policymakers who ultimately need to be convinced.

The homophile movement has come a long was since the founding of the Mattachine Society in 1950. The increased visibility of queer America is undoubtedly attributable to the hard work or advocates in that movement, who have worked to fashion a place queer individuals in the history of America. In a further bid to legitimize the existence of queer people in society, public education has taken its place alongside domestic partnerships initiatives, as a key site for lesbian and gay social reform. The demands of activists, who have long challenged schools to address acts of individual and institutional discrimination against lesbian and gay students and teachers, must be met with exigency. Importantly, the influence of the religious right must never be underestimated; they notoriously mobilize immense public support against pro- (homo) sexuality education by inflaming public fears about an indoctrinating gay agenda, and the potential for molestation of their children by homosexual perverts- considered a redundancy for some. Opponents have created pedagogical videos to advance their own agenda, such as The Gay Agenda, and The Gay Agenda in Public Education. These propagandist videos serve to incense public ignorance, and thwart efforts to create a safe environment for queer identified youth in the school system. These videos cast homosexuals as depraved and diseased individuals who die young, and are clearly designed to sway an uninformed public to oppose lesbian and gay rights and educational reform initiatives. It is imperative that queer advocacy groups work closely with communities to clarify the nature of the desired policy changes, in allaying their fears that one could ever seduce someone into becoming homosexual. The bottom line remains, that no one should ever have to fear going to school because of their sexual orientation, or perceived deviation form normative values.

School administrators must build a culture of tolerance, which leans towards the multicultural approach to policy changes, however problematic. More germane to the larger goal however, it seems best to illustrate the challenges faced by queer youth in academic institutions; this approach may circumvent personal prejudices against queer lifestyles, and instead strike at the humanity of people. Still, given the problems inherent in both the “multicultural” and the “public heath” approaches to educational reform, there is no unproblematic means of achieving the necessary changes. Irvine asks a question that is worth considering: Is it the case that some critics would oppose school reforms no matter what elegant conceptual frameworks might be crafted? I am inclined to answer that question affirmatively, sensing that the conservative right will not relent in its efforts to sustain heterosexual hegemony, despite the apparent negative consequences on queer youth. Regardless, the plight of queer youth across America, who in many places are not guaranteed protection from harassment, because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, demands that pro-sexuality education advocates are equally indefatigable in their efforts. History has shown that political backlash is an inevitable response to the advancement of queer rights in America, and must never become a deterrent against continued advocacy.

Day of Silence

2009-04-23T09:30:00.001+02:00

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What if it were SAFER to be SILENT?

Nearly 9 out of 10 LGBTQ students report verbal, sexual or physical harassment at school.

The Day of Silence is a national, student-led action to raise awareness of the discrimination, harassment, and abuse -- in effect, the SILENCING -- that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people and their allies face daily. Join students on your college campus in creating safer schools for all, regardless of sexual orientation, gender identity or gender expression.

TODAY, for part or whole of the day, take a VOW OF SILENCE

Think about the voices you are not hearing

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In Jamaica, innumerable young men are bullied by their peers, who constantly remind them of how "dem gwaan like gyal." These individuals have no one to turn to, for even their families are unsympathetic to their situations. Reform is but a necessary means to a heterosexual end. Because of this, Jamaican homosexual youth must learn to negate their identitties at a very young age, internalizing the homophobia that is a fixed part of their daily lives, and consequently hate themselves. I remember many effeminate boys while I was in high school, and I was empathetic towards their realities, for I knew they suffered as much as I did. Still, we never spoke of our mutual challenges. I now know one of those individuals to be gay, and he recently told me that he once thought of killing himself.

I though of suicide too- a permanent means to escape the hell into which I was born. Most disconcerting, was the fact that I never identified as a homosexual, I was just perceived to be one. I knew it wasn't an option in Jamaica, so I never thought of it... I was heterosexual, of course. Still, the taunts were worse than a plague of locusts, for they stung relentlessly, without seasonality. It was my life... I spent many lonely days by the beach, wishing I never had to retun home; wishing I never had to go back to school. Everyone knew me as the "girly boy", and no matter how hard I sought to shed that descriptor, it followed me always.

I look back on those times, and I remember the pain I felt everyday. Born with an affliction that I could never be rid of... that I could never seek counsel on. How many more Jamaican boys face such challenges? Surely, there is a boy out there like me, searching for answers as to why he was born into a world which does not respect him for who he is as an individual. The Jamaican Christian God has no answers.

For all you silenced Jamaican youth, today I commit to an hour of silence in your honour. You may not be able to speak out for yourself, but my heart screams out for you.

Boycott Against Institutionalized Bigotry

2009-04-23T03:42:00.001+02:00

I long to live in a world where individuals will instinctively stand up for the rights of others. This is but a far-fetched dream, stymied by the self-interests of moralizers who are blinded by their culture, and who refuse to recognize that there can be no excuse for institutionalized violence, or the lethargic efforts used to mitigate such violence. The recent boycott efforts of the BoycottJamaica group instantly caught my attention, and I was initially outraged by their efforts, which I believed to be misguided and doomed to failure. Today, I believe differently. We simply cannot keep finding excuses for maintaining the status quo; we have to do something!

The hatred perpetuated against homosexuals, and the reasoning used to support such attitudes, are no longer secrets. Everyday, in communities across the world, people live in fear, only because they have an attraction to people of the same sex. Society doesn't understand these people, and the bible explicitly says their lifestyles are abominable, and so the land must be purged of them. Now I wonder, how many people with this view know a homosexual? And I don't mean, oh they've seen one on tv- not many I bet. It's incredulous that I have to state this, but I will- you haven't met one yet, not because they are rare, unnatural members of the human world, but because the majority of them fear being ostracized by their families and their societies, and if you are from Jamaica, or any of the other notoriously homophobic societies, for their lives. Homosexuality is not viewed as a variance of human sexuality, but as a purposeful choice against what is most natural. I can't imagine why anyone would choose to lead a life of shame and fear...It's so frustrating for me to be writing this, because I don't know what I need to say to homophobes to convince them that their violent regard for homosexuals has no rational basis; that their attitudes towards queer identified individuals is a most obvious display of their poor understanding of human gender identity and sexual expression. People are not simply male or female based on their genitalia, and they do not fit prescribed gender roles and sexual orientations because you desire it to be so. The reality is much more complex than we have been led to believe in the Jamaican education system.

The Jamaican government needs a wake up call, because it currently speak out against homosexuality as though there are no homosexuals in Jamaica. It's always "the lobbyists" in north America attacking Jamaican values. This is no simple matter, and it must be dealt with in earnest. Unfortunately, the many people who believe in advocating for a change in the government's position continue to shy away, because they do not want to be implicated as sexual deviants. This is somewhat understandable, but what is the alternative? Let us have the gay men in Jamaica organize a pride march through Kingston, because they are best able to lobby for their rights in a most oppressive context. You do not need to be black to be a black rights activist, and you do not need to be a woman to be a women's rights activist. All you need is a conscience, which many of us seem to have lost on our evolutionary trail to the present day. Where are the feminist groups advocating for greater representation of women in government, and better harassment and sexual abuse laws to protect women? Where are the liberal groups speaking our against legal moralism, and the crippling hold it has on the archaic laws of our land? Where are the Human Rights advocates who are brave enough to declare war on the government, for maintaining laws that actively discriminate against a minority group in the nation? Jamaicans are so expressive, so open, so loud. Why is it that we only hear the church bellowing discriminatory garb down our throats? The few organizations just as Jamaicans for Justice are representing a cause that is so important, that their voice should be more powerful. More of us needs to join the chorus of these organizations.

Jamaica is in the spotlight once more, and the time is ripe for us to express to our government that it needs to defend the rights of all Jamaicans. Liberty, and equal protection under the law are touted as inalienable rights in the Jamaican constitution, but so many are without it- and they have no chance of attaining it without powerful, orchestrated efforts by those who recognize this need.

The Boycott Jamaica campaign is playing a part in this process. I would never ask someone to boycott Jamaican products, but I do not refrain from telling of the painful realities faced by many queer Jamaicans. I have read one too many chilling tales of gays and transsexuals being beaten, and burnt, as sanctioned by our communities, for me not to be outraged and fed up with the situation. If they use their consciences to decide that they do not want to support Jamaica in any way, then that's their choice to make. I will not refrain from educating people, based solely on concerns about the imminent destitution of already struggling Jamaicans.

The state has no business regulating the private, intimate lives of its citizens, and that is exactly what the buggery law seeks to do. If we are as concerned about the family as we claim to be, then maybe its time to create laws that support mandatory DNA testing for men who refuse to claim their children, born to women outside of their marital unions. Perhaps too it is appropriate to imprison women who have more than 6 children, who remain without a job, for they put the livelihoods of Jamaican children at risk, in a manner that should not be tolerated. You see, we don't understand why we hate homosexuals anymore. For the reasons we come up with today are easily contradicted by our own deviant lifestyles, and our laxity towards activities that directly influence the continued erosion of Jamaican society.

People often claim that homosexuals are predators, actively seeking to lure unsuspecting young boys into illicit affairs. This is but one of the many myths purported by the aggressors, in demonizing a group of individuals they know nothing about. The BoycottJamaica campaign is taking an affirmative stance against such destructive stereotyping. If you disagree with their approach, talk to them; tell them what you would like them to do instead. I'm tired of hearing people say "stop the boycotts", without offering viable solutions to address the problems at hand. Inaction is not an option. If resocialization, and education is what people need to overcome their puritanical and often downright bigoted views, then that we must do from within Jamaica. It is simply not appropriate to make judgments and critiques of other people's approach, while we sit on our asses and do nothing to mend a tattered ("tear-op tear-op" works better) social fabric.

ATAKLAPS AGO BOS!!! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH MAN!!! I am launching a personal boycott against Jamaica's institutionalized bigotry. We have international gay rights organizations dictating the parameters of the debate we need to have about the violent manifestations of Jamaican homophobia, because we have been silent for so long. Now we have some momentum going; let us not waste it.

Documentary: For the Bible Tells Me So

2009-04-23T00:16:00.002+02:00

Can religious belief and homosexuality be reconciled? Without a doubt one of the most moving films I have ever watched- but then again, I am biased, so you decide. I recently bought a copy of the DVD for my mother.

Heterosexual Apathy

2009-03-11T07:01:00.004+01:00

RAGE! An inextinguishable fire is burning inside my soul, and I can no longer sit by and watch as puritanical bigots dictate morality to the disenfranchised and downtrodden. The societal constructions, which attempt to regulate innate human expression, must be set ablaze with exigency! I am not perverted, and neither are you. You are human, and I am too.

ANGER! I am enraged by the treatment of my brothers and sisters as second-class citizens, whose civil rights and liberties are secondary to the demands of the tyrannical majority. I will not be silenced! I will not acculturate, for our society is built on tenets, which do not accurately define the human experience. Backlash? Without diffidence I am armed and ready for a culture clash.

FEAR! You tolerate that which you still hate. If you cannot love me, then fuck your tolerance, for it serves no utility! I will no longer fear. I will no longer be ashamed, and to your dislike, I will no longer loathe myself. Self-deprecation once weakened my resolve to fight, but now I know I am not alone, and I will stop at nothing to reclaim the humanity that was long denied my people. I can embrace nothing short of acceptance, for I shall not betray my stance.

OUTRAGE! Insularity is a cancer enveloping the minds of the injudicious. Your ignorance perpetuates discriminatory, normative thought, which poses the greatest challenge to efforts to liberate our crippled sensibilities. All I request is respect for all, which you so fervently demanded when you were shackled and persecuted. The state of being blinded by one's normality is understandable, but inexcusable; your efforts are needed now, lest the principles of liberty are forced to bow.

ACTION! Binaries only serve to immortalize inequality, and prejudice. Reductionist approaches to understanding the human condition have done us a disservice, but you have the power to invalidate them. My struggle cannot solely be my burden to bear! How can you watch idly as I am ridiculed, beaten, and chopped, without redress? A life without fear in the country of my birth, do I deserve any less? Though different you perceive me to be, we all want to be happy, if only you could see.

I Can't Have A Gay Friend

2009-03-07T23:02:00.002+01:00

If you are a homosexual, it is not uncommon for people to express their disgust with your "choice" and demand an explanation for your "decision" to live immorally. I have had many such conversations, the last of which I would like to share with you.

There is only one Jamaican, (besides my sister and other homosexual men) who I have trusted enough to tell of my sexuality. He decided to inform me of how disgusted he is by my lifestyle, and the following is a conversation we had.

He says:

I contempleted should I send this msg or not................... but since u always seem to want to talk about it (despite my efforts not to)..........

I think homosexuality is, beyond a reasonable doubt, wrong and should not be encouraged!! It is disgusting, immoral and downright nasty and should be looked down upon!!!

I don't understand how someone (well...you) can think that it is 'okay' or should be 'accepted' or that nothing is wrong with it!!
Biblical teachings lash out against it!!
I understand that you might not have any religious affiliations..... but look at nature.... look at the natural order of things!! How can you sit there and tell me that nothing is wrong with a same sex relationships????
A man and a woman have intercourse....a baby result....(something productive)
gay or lesbian couple....nothing....(unproductive)....

I just can't see how you cannot see anything wrong with it and at the same time try to defend it!!

I might could sympathize with you if...for example......you were to say that you think it's wrong but u can't help but feel the way you do..... like the girl at my last job.............. but with you...... you just think it is right! It is normal! It is healthy! It should be legal! I heard that JLP is working on legislating that buggery...(if caught) equates to life sentence (which might be 25 years or actual life)...... and how Canada is going to withdraw from out tourism market should it become official... so what??? Canada only contributes like 2% there about to Toursim........... so I don't see why Canada behaving that way.... besides....what we choose to do in our country is our decision.......

To show you how disgusted I am with it.....a part of me wants to stop talking to you, doesn't want to be near you or even see you....
At the same time..... I'm thinking..... I've known you for so long, etc (all that sentimental crap).....
The latter part might supress the former part....but that still doesn't change the fact that it's still there.....
the next time someone avoids engaging in gay convos...... remember that there might be a possibility that the person doesn't want to offend you.....

Take what happened with [Natalie] for example............ maybe I should have followed her............ just not reply...

My response:

Note carefully, I am not angry…I am very calm, and all my messages should be read with that in mind. I am not looking to argue, for evidently you don’t value homophile arguments, and so pay little attention to the value in them.

Also, this is my last bid to get you to understand me- not agree with, but understand me. You said you don’t understand how someone could think there is nothing wrong with homosexuality---which is a huge slap in the face to me, having poured my heart out on this matter for months. Bot iz aarait.

In order to be as thorough as possible, I will respond to each of you claims chronologically. I will then end with an idea proposed by Jean Paul Sartre in his Etymology of Hate- The Antisemite and the Jew.

I don’t want to always talk about homosexuality. And further, choosing not to talk about it solves nothing. I’m done wasting my breath trying on futile arguments. This started again a few days ago when [Natalie] said it’s a good thing homosexuality is not accepted in Jamaica. I was put off by her statement, not because I am homosexual, but because I know, personally, how our disdain for homosexuals is manifested in society. I don’t think either of you read the statement I made afterwards…she said she still doesn’t condone homosexuality, and you said you agreed. Both of you completely missed the point. I don’t care if you think it’s immoral, that’s your business. No, I am not trying to gain your approval- I stopped trying to please people a looong time ago. But I wanted you both to consider the manifestation of Jamaican homophobia, that are eating away (that’s an understatement--- it a chaa chaa we) at our nation’s social fabric.

I will reproduce that message below--- and please, consider it as words from a humanist, not a homosexual. My sexuality does not define all my thought processes mind you.

_______________________
“The Jamaican culture is not open to "certain things"

But conspicuously, it is open to marginalizing the voice of iconoclasts and punishing violently anyone who dares challenge the patriarchy and heteronormativity which pervades the nation's psyche.

It is not open to certain things...and how wonderful that is...

for now those who suffer have no means of redress...no chance to live without fear...no chance to love... but that's okay because it is just them- as opposed to us, and our problems.

It amazes me sometimes how we can extricate ourselves from oppressive realities.

Jamaican homophobia is never a good thing. I was ridiculed everyday of my life for not being the ultra-masculine Jamaican we are supposed to be... I walk down the streets of Ocho Rios today and people shout, look at how he walks, him a wan a dem...and I wait...I wait for someone to suggest that I be beaten. Luckily that has not yet transpired... and for what? Because I don't walk and limp...and because I clearly spent too much time preening myself for people in Ocho Rios- real men don't do that.

One of my very good friends attempted to commit suicide...because he could stand being taunted about being gay...he never self identified as gay (no one in Jamaica does, or can for that matter)--- he was effeminate. And effeminacy is never a good thing...because everyone is the same...and everyone with a penis should behave the same...just as how everyone with a vagina needs to be able to wash, cook and clean, while raising the children to whom they gave birth. God forbid someone should try to challenge the constructed gender binary which has been normalized in Jamaican society.

It's easy to turn a blind eye to the heathens who populate the earth...but people are suffering, and that is never a good thing.

I'm not even talking about homosexuality...disagreeing with it is one thing, but Jthe manifestations of amaican homophobia are ridiculous. Effeminacy is not a vice...and it does not equate to homosexuality, yet people are made to feel inferior for it. Fathers don't hug their sons or tell them that they love them... people who experiment when younger, as most children do, are made to feel dirty...sexuality is natural- we seem to have forgotten that in our bid to demonize certain expressions of it.

These things bother me...

It is perfectly understandable that you do not "condone" homosexuality. (Condone? That sounds like a moral judgment, which I do not believe anyone has the jurisdiction to make. You don't believe in it, don't do it. Telling me that you don't believe in it, and then that I am immoral because I am it, are different things.”

So back to your first comment--- I do not like talking about homosexuality- clearly it’s a very divisive issue. But I feel compelled to defend those without a voice in Jamaica, who suffer for being thought to be gay---they aren’t even gay!!!!! I had no voice growing up…I lived trying to change…I never felt loved…or respected, and I hated my life…why? Because men shouldn’t act like girls. How can I not speak out on such issues? Instead you chastise me for standing up for gays, which is not what I was doing- and that was very clear…still you both decided to misconstrue what I said--- reducing the concerns I raised to, “you just want to defend your nasty ways.” Not true [Bryan].

Your next comment is particularly shocking, and hard to digest.

“I think homosexuality is, beyond a reasonable doubt, wrong and should not be encouraged!! It is disgusting, immoral and downright nasty and should be looked down upon!!!”

You qualified your first comment with “I think”; you should have done the same for the second. That is how YOU feel, and you are entitled to your opinion. I hasten to remind you however that your view is steeped in Christian morality, that some interpret very differently, and others don’t value at all. If by, “It should not be encouraged” you mean that people should be ridiculed, beaten, stabbed and murdered for being gay, as an example for everyone who dared flaunt such despicable behaviors, then [Bryan] I am really sorry you feel that way. If I’m lucky I’ll get a taste of what I am asking for when I go back- except, I wont be caught with a man---someone will just note how "mi look like wan a dem"…and mobilize a group of attackers to punish me for my shameless transgressions.

I never thought you were gay because you made gay jokes…that’s preposterous. That view is far too simplistic [Bryan]- an yu nuo mi beta dan dat. I always had an attraction for men growing up. I ignored it, because it was frowned upon…I liked girls, but then I didn’t have much of a choice. There is no alternative to heterosexual sex in Jamaica. (…and why should there be? Well….because there are people with homosexual inclinations, who end up getting married to women but then cheat on with men… not nice is it?) Looking back on my life, there were too men I knew well who endured similar experiences of being ridiculed for being effeminate…you and [Jack]. I am gay…[Jack] might be gay…and so I naturally though of you… not in a bid to "corrupt" your morality….not in a bid to convince you that it was morally right---for clearly you believe in God, and your branch of Christianity preaches that homosexuality is a sin…just like lying….just like fornication- which you seem a lot less concerned about decrying.

Next:

“I don't understand how someone (well...you) can think that it is 'okay' or should be 'accepted' or that nothing is wrong with it!! Biblical teachings lashes out against it!!”

[Bryan] why do you have to understand? This is how I feel, this is what I want….and no matter how nasty you think it is, that is my sexuality. I want you to love and accept me for who I am--- all of me, without judging my actions. I thought your bible had said that he who is without sin should cast the first stone. My sinless brother, you stopped casting stones a long time ago- a rak yaa fling now!

The bible lashes out against homosexuality, yes- but your Jesus also preaches love and acceptance--- is the sin of homosexuality so great that I don’t even deserve to be considered a fully functioning and valuable human being? The bible… our great upholder of patriarchy, and past defender of slavery. The bible clearly establishes that men are the head of households….men are the boss…yet such ideas would be laughed at in modern societies. One could never suggest that women are inferior to men in any way--- yet this is a deviation from biblical teachings…

If we were to follow everything that bible of yours says… this world would be a very different place. We would be stoning people in the streets for being gay (Which we do), cutting out the tongues of liars, and severing the hands of thieves. Who knows, maybe that’s a better society to live in. In any case the moral arguments you make against homosexuality simply do not hold up to intellectual scrutiny. It is evident that the few bible verses which mention homosexual conduct have been interpreted out of their context, in a bid to disenfranchise gays from societies, in satisfying your own bigoted view of sexuality and gender identity. You have been lied to by your religious teachers, and it is time you educate yourself further. I recommend the documentary "For the Bible tells me so".

"Then you continued “but look at nature.... look at the natural order of things!! How can you sit there and tell me that nothing is wrong with a same sex relationships????”"

Oh the old biological determinist view… animals aren’t gay and therefore humans shouldn’t be. First of all, even if there were homosexual tendencies in animals, it would be hard to observe it--- I haven’t done much research on this but I remember seeing male dogs humping each other---it happens!

Next, I don’t want to have babies! And you know what, the world doesn’t need anymore either. Homosexuals will not challenge or undermine the continuation of or species, because most people are straight…so what do you want me to do? Fuck a girl and get a baby? “Prove” my masculinity? Save our species from dying out? Same sex relationships are only seen as wrong because of our construction of heterosexual hegemony. In centuries gone by homosexuality was revered, and homosexuals were not stigmatized and demonized as they are now. I didn’t choose this [Bryan]…so even if there was something inherently wrong with homosexuality, there is nothing I could do about it---unless you’d rather see me lie to a woman and bring a child into the world. I’m not stupid! It is not easy to be a homosexual in our heteronormative societies…and if I could choose differently, I would. Trust me, I tried----for 18 years of my life. Just because most people are straight (which is suspect, because most people have no choice but to be “straight”- is not as if people are allowed to explore their sexualities) doesn’t mean everyone who is not is disgusting and immoral and wrong… That same premise was used to demonize and kill blacks…Jews… gypsies and countless other minority groups… we have grown past this majority is right mentality- except with homosexuals.

How could I sit here and defend homosexuality [Bryan]? Because I hate injustice…I hate hypocrisy…I hate discrimination…I hate neglect…I hate suffering.

"I might be able to sympathize with you if...for example......you were to say that you think it's wrong but u can't help but feel the way you do..... like the girl at my last job.............. but with you...... you just think it is right! It is normal! It is healthy!"

Don’t even try to empathize with me, because you cannot. You have no clue what it is to be part of a marginalized class, which must perpetually remain fearful of attack by people who disagree with your choices. You have no clue what it is like to wake up every morning asking why you were born in the wrong country…why no one understands you….why you cant be open about yourself to people you meet and why you have to grow distrustful of everyone you meet because they might be the one to tell of your secret and get you killed…for coming out only serves to further marginalize you…

You have NO clue about any of these things, because you are heterosexual…you are normal, ordinary, good…but I am a freak of nature, an immoral atheist who should be rid of his homosexuality at all costs. Ostracize him you say, for he will then learn his lesson and change for the better.

Don’t… I don’t need your pity…so end all efforts now…your empathy means nothing to me…because there still remains 6 billion people like you in the world who would rather I internalize all the hatred thrown at me, and start hating myself. I wont do that…I will not commit suicide, like may others before me, to escape the misery I was born in.

There is nothing wrong with me! Nothing! I do not think anything is wrong with homosexuality, and yes, I do not need to “help” the way I feel. I am not the coward at your last job who doesn’t have the strength to stand up against heterosexual hegemony- so your comparison is misplaced. How self affirming it must be to hear a gay person say they hate themselves---that the are ashamed of their feelings…that they want to change. Well you will never hear that from me. And still, despite what you are implying of me, I am normal [Bryan]. No less “normal” than you…

Now about the legality of homosexuality. You, like or government refuse to differentiate between legislation and morality. Our government is not there to declare what is morally right or wrong…they have no rights to make laws to govern what adults consent to doing in their bedrooms and the buggery law should not be there! Removing in would not mean that homosexuality is legalized…obviously….and it wouldn’t mean that more homosexuals would spring up from the immoral underbellies of our God fearing nation--- but it would remove this notion of second class citizenship, which is conferred upon anyone who is queer. Call the police because I am getting beaten…why? They’re just going to beat you too. Don’t even attempt to walk the streets of the country of your birth, because we will know you are gay, and we will kill you. Oh gee thanks! Tropical paradise this is indeed. The purpose of a government is to mandate laws that protect the interests of all its citizens! Unfortunately….I am not one of them.
And by the way you are mistaken about the amendment to the sex offenders bill being discussed in parliament now. (I read the print media every day so I follow these things keenly). They are seeking to effect that punishment for buggery when it is done in the context of abuse/ rape. I agree completely with that law. At least now the government has the guts to even mention male/ male sex in the law books--- the interests of men are now rising to the fore, albeit inadequately. So sorry to disappoint you, but I will still only be put in prison for 10 years if I am caught having sex with the love of my life.

Canada cares because people are suffering. It’s so amazing to hear you talk about how what we do in Jamaica is our business. We haven’t done a very good job of taking care of our business, because we talk about homosexuals as if they are foreigners looking to go to Jamaica to sun-tan on our wretched beaches. THERE ARE HOMOSEXUALS IN JAMAICA- and the civilized world is tired of seeing them living in fear…and being mutilated by the barbarous hands of ignorant Jamaicans! So repealing the law means more than just “bowing” to external pressure! It means that homosexuals in Jamaica will feel confident that there is redress of ever they are threatened by people who think like you! Is that too much to ask? Apparently…because we are not human.

Your short-sightedness is comical…. the rate of increase in American tourists to Jamaica isdecreasing… but Canadian tourism arrivals have been increasing. That occurrence has offset any dramatic dips in tourism arrivals as a result of the global economic crisis. Canada contributes more than just 2 % to tourism- almost 25 % now actually, and any serious policy by their government to decrease tourism to Jamaica, will have adverse effects. Oh but that is okay right? So long as Jamaica stands up for “morality” (I clearly have none)….so long as Jamaica continues to trample on the right of one marginalized group. That’s a dignified position to hold right there.

"To show you how disgusted I am of it.....a part of me wants to stop talking to you, doesn't want to be near you or even see you....At the same time..... I'm thinking..... I've known you for so long, etc (all that sentimental crap)....."

Sentimental crap? If our relationship means little to you, then stop fighting the urge [Bryan] if you so desire. It wouldn’t be the first, and it wouldn’t be the last time someone turned their back onme because they “couldn’t understand”. You are clearly crossing many of you moral boundaries to be my friend…and perhaps, as you have implied, it isn’t worth it. I never realized I could be that repulsive…

"the next time someone avoids engaging in gay convos...... remember that there might be a possibility that the person doesn't want to offend you....."

Or according to Jean Paul Sartre, they may just be afraid of being proven wrong. He argued very convincingly in his book about hatred, that the person who hates becomes consumed by his hate---he exudes his hate. He refuses to discuss why he hates, and as a matter of fact has hardened himself to arguing about his hatred. His mind becomes impervious, and he is affirmed in his beliefs. Way to take the high road bro. It’s not because you don’t want to offend me…because it is possible to argue about homosexuality without offending someone…without telling them you consider them to be disgusting (a feeling of revulsion or profound disapproval aroused by something unpleasant or offensive). I have discussions about this matter all the time…but it’s only when talking to people from home that these sentiments are expressed. Your inability to “understand” and “accept” me is offensive enough… so don’t worry about offending me.

Why can’t you see that it is possible to believe that something is immoral without casting dismissive judgements about someone, and hating them for it? I mean, if you think your homophobia justifies that you do not have anything to do with openly gay people, then that’s your decision to make. It is a decision that would break my heart, but I would live.

"Take what happened with [Natalie] for example............ maybe I should have followed [Natalie] ............ just not reply..."

She didn’t reply, and I was so disappointed. [Natalie] never said, Pikni I think it is morally wrong, but we should be careful not to judge, or encourage acts of violence against these individuals in Jamaica...

But she did remember to say- I do not condone homosexuality in any way shape or form--- just a reminder in case I forgot? Mi no nuo we unu tek mi fa.

When I pour my heart out on something…I hope for an equally heartfelt response. I wasn’t trying to defend homosexuality in that message, I was speaking out against violence, in any shape or form. Apparently, she disagreed.

I have heard your arguments…you have heard mine. Let it rest- please. I can’t do this anymore...and I don’t need to do this anymore. I am happy---truly happy for the first time in my life… I don’t have to go back home…I don’t have to listen to how immoral and sinful I am…I can finally start to live, and love, without fear.
________________________

You know someone for 14 years, yet still it must come to this. Sad.

Virginity Testing? But of Course!

2009-02-22T05:34:00.001+01:00

This morning I was reminded of Ernest Smith’s suggestion a few years ago that high-school girls be given virginity tests as a condition for readmission at the start of a school year. This has sent me reeling, as I had somehow missed that report when it was first reported. My immediate reaction was: How sexist! How demoralizing! How puritanical! I will disregard the proposal however, for it was made by an individual who notoriously talks through his ass, spewing shit at unsuspecting, and ignorant civilians.

Sex is everywhere. Humans have a built in time clock, which is dormant for the first decade of their lives, but that kicks into high gear throughout puberty- that odd time when hair starts growing in unseemly places, among other things. Adolescents are having their first sexual experiences at increasingly earlier age, which for me is alarming, because I understand well the pitfalls that they expose themselves to when they start having sex. Forget the psychological trauma, or the chastisement to me endured if anyone finds out... I am talking about pregnancies (the pregnancy isn’t even scary- it’s the thing that comes out crying at the end of the process) and diseases (some incurable).

I am reminded of sex education classes in primary school, in which the guidance counselor used various scare tactics to discourage sexual activity. I remember looking at blistered vaginas and penises covered in gaping wounds brought on by Sexually Transmitted Diseases. I was never reminded that these images depicted STD’s in their advanced stages, and that there were treatments available to cure said illnesses.

I was shown how to put on condoms on a banana, which surely helped me by the time I turned 16 and could actually fit a condom. But my thoughtful Guidance councilor forgot to mention that even if I was having sex, I wouldn’t have any of these available to me, for children were not supposed to be engaging in sexual activity in the first place or that they never made then in my size.

I learnt about sexual intercourse from a very young age. People who has sex got pregnant, and if they didn’t they would get nasty infections which produced sores all over one’s genitalia that festered into eternity. I shouldn’t have sex, but if I do I should wear an oversized latex contraption known as a condom...being careful to roll it on just the way she did it onto the banana. Most importantly however, I was never to forget that abstinence is the best safeguard against the inevitable pregnancy or malodorous infection. I would never have sex EVER

Now let me consider. Her efforts to dissuade those who had never had sex from doing so worked well. In all honesty, however, I doubt that I would have started having sex any earlier than I did, if I had been given a more accurate picture of what sex was and the possible ramifications of engaging in such activities. The more pertinent question is, what effect did her scare tactics have on those who were already more likely to start having sex at an early age, or who were already engaging in sexual activities? It’s hard to tell, but my intuition tells me abstinence/ ‘ignorance based’ education is not very effective.

In a hyper-sexualized society like Jamaica’s there will always be a significant number of adolescents who decide, or are persuaded, to engage in sexual activities. Does it not make sense to truthfully educate students as to the real chances of getting pregnant (which are slimmer than we were warned), contracting infections, (slim to nothing if condoms are used properly), and what options are available to students who fall victim to any of the unfortunate situations. Resources are available. Dare I say, potential pregnancies couls easily be terminated using, dare I say it, the morning after pill, or and many treatments are available for the Syphilis and the Gonorrhea we could so easily contract, before our pubes broke out into those sores that were plastered all over the walls of the guidance counselor’s office.

I’m so tired of hearing people talk about how making condoms accessible will provide an incentive for having sex. Sex will take place with or without the condom; but that is not what we should be concerned about. We should be concerned about how an unwanted pregnancy will change the life of the teenage mother forever, and how contracting diseases puts EVERYONE in society at risk. I’d be happier knowing that everyone was having safe sex, than that a few were having unsafe sex, because diseases will come always come back to bite everyone in the ass. Unfortunately, the movers and shakers of education policy in Jamaica do not see eye-to-eye with me on this matter. They view Jamaican society through the lens of 1960’s nostalgia; the good old days when children were respectful of their parent, and sex was a sacred affair between two consenting adults who dedicated their lives to each other.

I hate to burst anyone’s bubble, but the evangelical doctrine that sexual intercourse is primarily for procreation no longer holds sway. The good old days are long gone, and it is time we create policies that reflect that paradigm shift. I can imagine it is hard to let go of a belief so rooted in religious morality, but let’s get real. Sex is sex is pleasure is before marriage is pregnancy is AIDS is can be avoided is time is overdue is when will we act in the service of future generations.

Silence = DEATH

2009-02-20T21:03:00.001+01:00

Never once have I woken up without being conscious of my sexuality. It isn't important to me, for it refers only to who I'm attracted to, not who I am. But everyone else perceives it as being essential to my identity...

In speaking out against the injustices faced by queer individuals, I must adopt a gay identity, for otherwise the impetus to act against intolerance is hard to come by; it is so easy to cower in silence, when entire societies are vehemently opposed to one's sexuality.

I recently watched the movie, "It's My Party", and was touched by the experience of the protagonist. He contracted HIV and was soon after dumped by the love of his life. Within a year, his body was deteriorating rapidly, and he decided to commit suicide and shorten what would otherwise be a painful, and long journey to death.

I cried throughout the entire movie, because I empathized greatly with his experiences. Homosexuality and HIV/ AIDS are both stigmatized considerably, yet this man smiled in the face of disenfranchisement. His travails were made bearable by a close group of friends and his family.

I don't have this. I can't have this. My family would surely disown me if I was to ever pronounce myself to be homosexual. (For what reasons?) Even more far fetched is the possibility of having a homosexual community in Jamaica, where queers rightfully hide, fearful of their own looming execution at the hands of the masses.

How I long to be a part of an inclusive community. Not a gay community, but a pluralistic, cosmopolitan community, which can accommodate people of all persuasions. Till then, what shall I do? I will speak out! I am no less Jamaican that any heterosexual, and I refuse to be treated as such.

We need to stake our claim to Jamaican citizenship before the illiberal society degenerates further into social anarchy, and denies us other fundamental rights. Vigilante killings of queer individuals must no longer go unnoticed, for if we don't speak out now, we might very well be next.

I Am...Homophobia

2009-02-20T20:45:00.001+01:00

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn't have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

Homophobia is wrong.

Author - Unknown

I Am Your (Gay) Child

2009-02-14T18:17:00.001+01:00

I have read with interests the diversity of perspectives on Earnest Smith’s incendiary claims that homosexuals are "abusive (and) violent", among other unsubstantiated declarations. His statements did not surprise me, as such ridiculous postulations are a commonplace in

Jamaica

. Again, another government MP’s has revealed himself for who he is: a bigoted, misinformed ignoramus who has no place in the parliament of a progressive democracy.

People often say of homosexuals: “we don’t want them here!” or “OutRage and other foreign gay right organizations cannot force their nastiness on our Christian nation!” What many of these people fail to see however, is that there are many homosexuals here in Jamaica, though you wouldn’t know any, because you threaten to kill whichever one is “brazen” enough to profess their sexuality. While I understand that most people do not support homosexuality, it is important for people to develop the understanding that as citizens of

Jamaica

, homosexuals deserve to be treated as such- that is, guaranteed protection under the law. Today, they are treated like second class citizens, whose opinions are invalidated because the majority disagrees with the gender of the individual they choose to love.

How brazen they have become, yes. Brazen because they are tired of living lives shrouded in secrecy and shame; tired of fearing that they may lose their lives, when one day, someone shouts out, “a fish dat”; tired of being silenced by puritanical evangelists who fail to recognize the diversity of moral perspectives present in our society . We must stop dictating morality to people, for few of us who lambast homosexuals are paragons of virtue and holiness. If you think homosexuality is immoral, then I would hope that you never engage in homoerotic activity; but how callous, and unchristianlike you are in your violent efforts to conform ‘moral deviants’.

I was nurtured in your womb, and am now working to positively contribute to the development of our nation. I am a Jamaican. I am your child...but you wish me dead.

Vybz Kartel's Editorial: Traversing the Chasms

2009-02-11T05:36:00.000+01:00

The resurgence of the Dancehall/censorship debate, has once again caught my attention with the Broadcating Commission's announcement that "daggering" songs could no longer be played on the radio. You will recall I did a post demanding that these songs be banned, but interestingly, I am not very happy about the way this matter was dealt with.

A flood of articles lambasting Dj's have beenx featured since Esthe Tyson's article was published on February 1, largely with a monotony of perspectives. Vybz Kartel went on the offensive, and fired off an editorial in defence of Dancehall. See his article here.

***

The time has finally come, when dissidents are unafraid to speak out against those in authority. Like-minded individuals, who represent but a small segment of Jamaica’s populace, dominate debates in the print media. It was refreshing to hear from Vybz Kartel in his editorial "Censorship vs free expression”; he has an opinion that I deem no less valid than that of the fire-breathing, middle class dragons, who categorically believe in the superiority of their arguments. I hope this current exchange of perspectives works to traverse the chasms that divide us as a people, and too, that it heralds the beginning of a new era of intellectual exchange. No longer should pro-choice advocates be cornered by religious conservatism; nor should homophiles be silenced by puritanical moral objectivism. Vybz Kartel, a representative of the marginalized classes, refuses to be bogged down by classist intellectual elitism, which hinders the possibility of forming a progressive nation, founded on mutual respect for people of all persuasions. Noteworthy however, is that he decided to deflect blame to other socio-economic problems facing the nation, without acknowledging the real possibility that our children are overexposed to countless mature themes in Dancehall.

I am personally overjoyed that the Broadcasting Commission has started to live up to their mandate. For far too long, we have indiscriminately allowed crude, deleterious lyrics to clog our airwaves and infiltrate the minds of our children. The popularity of Dancehall today speaks volumes to the influence it now wields in Jamaican society, and though it is by no means the cause of any of Jamaica’s problems, it cannot escape all blame. UWI academics and many diehard dancehall fans continue to exoticize the music as a means of cultural expression and a metaphor for life. Furthermore, they assert the lack of empirical evidence to support the claim that Dancehall promotes sexism, belligerence, homophobia and other retrograde persuasions. However, we do not need empirical evidence to know that if you hear something often enough, in the absence of critical thought, it eventually becomes verity. How often do you hear people chanting dancehall mantras in justifying their actions or reproaching other’s? “Man a gyalis” (I am a player), “Man a bad man” (I am a gangster), “Man fi main uman” (Men must financially support their women), or even “Bwai fi get gon shat” (He needs to be shot).

We need take our future into our own hands. There is no longer any ‘them’ and ‘us’. We are all witnessing the unraveling of a social fabric that was built through centuries of oppression and struggle. It will take a very long time to rebuild it, but if each of us grabs some thread and a needle now, we may be able to stitch together the pieces- together. Dancehall is a potent socializing force, which desensitizes our children to the use of violence, sexualizes our young girls andmakes them targets for predators, and on the whole glorifies the objectification of our women. Once our greatest pride and showpiece to the world, our music and the influence it has had on the psyche of Jamaicans is now a cancer threatening to envelop Jamaica’s prospects of being a prosperous nation.

As much as I disagree with Vybz Kartel, I want to see greater representation of his perspective in our print media- the delineation of sometimes controversial, divergent views, which more accurately represent the opinions of all Jamaicans. Jamaica’s lower classes have long been seething at the slight to the validity of their opinions, and many “well thinking”, “decent” Jamaicans are surely staggered by Kartel’s audacity. Serves them right! How insensitive we have been, in ignoring the perspectives of an entire class of people who cannot understand the need to ban any Dancehall songs. Had we made more inclusive efforts to bring all interested parties into the debate, we would not now be faced with a torrent of never before aired opinions. Let the dialogue begin.

Mi Buut a Beg Bred

2009-02-09T19:30:00.001+01:00

As children, we tried desperately, and often in futility, to fit in with our peers. Our desire for acceptance caused much heartache, as lack of money was a most formidable hindrance to being able to ‘fit in’. Today though, we are stronger individuals because of those experiences, unafraid of admitting to our lacking something now that we understand that we are not defined by our material possessions. Everyone’s reality is different, and so long as we remind ourselves of that fact, we need not be ashamed of our circumstances.

Memories...

Mommy can I please have my lunch money? FP, I can only give you enough for bus fare, but don't worry, I will come by and give you the money for lunch by noon.

The lunch bell rings, and I run out to the playing field. Staying in the class room was never an option, because the students would ask if you weren't hungry, and why you weren't buying anything. Lunch period ends, and still, mommy is nowhere in sight in sight. She finally arrives at 2 pm, and she asks the teacher to take me from class for a bit. We go to the back of our building, and she offers me a slice of delicious potato pudding, which she baked that morning. I then drink some water at the stand-pipe, and run hurriedly back to class, but not before she wets her fingers with her saliva, and straightens my hairline and eyebrow.

Other times, she made sandwiches for my lunch, but I was too embarrassed to eat them at school, so I waited till I got back home. By then however, the guava jam had soaked through the bread, which became unappealingly soggy and squished. I would toss it to the dogs, and instead make a sandwich with white break and seasoned tomatoes. Word cannot express the shame I now feel, for discarding the food my mother so thoughtfully prepared. If only I could turn back the hands of time.

I remember the days when the front of my shoe began to open up, over worn after two years. Mommy insisted I wear my sneakers to school, so she could take my brown school shoes to the "shuu meka." The teachers would quickly notice the white shoes on my feet, and demand an explanation. The other kids though it was cool, but if I could have gone invisible on those days, I would have.

I used to dread yearly trips to attractions across the country. After paying the fee to go on the trip, we never had the money for me to enter the attractions, or to buy fast food at the end of the trip. I remember once, I had enough money to buy a two piece combo from KFC, but in order to save it, I had to skip seeing the Green Grotto Caves, and had planned to forego touring the Greenwich Great House. I waited outside while everyone toured, insisting that I had gone before. We got to Greenwich, and I everyone started lining up to enter, but I shied away. The teacher, Miss Bennett, called me over and insisted that I spend the negligible (likl) 20 dollars to enter. I felt weak...KFC was now a distant dream. We got to Montego Bay and everyone started dashing (in typical konchri pikni style) for KFC, Burger King and McDonald's. I went off on my own, touring the nearby stores, until everyone came back. I was able to afford an ice-cream cone, and I comforted myself with the rummy sweetness.

Jeans day: pay 10 dollars if you wear casual clothing. Oh how I hated those days. If I managed to find something to wear, I would always be embarrassed once I saw everyone else. I decided to stop participating, for it would often mean going without a snack at "break time." After a while however, the teachers started charging half the fee, for those who decided not to wear causal wear, anyway. The poor man always loses.

Then there is that ugly pair of jeans I bought in grade eight, that I wore for the duration of three years, whenever I had to go out. Sometimes, I was fortunate enough to wear my brothers' clothing. They were 8, and 4 years ahead of me. They never fit well, but I was afforded some variety. A year ago I went home, and saw the pair of jeans. I looked at it carefully, then put it away in a "skyandal bag" and tossed it in a barrel in the garage. I never want to see it again.

There were the textbooks I needed, but never had. It wasn't until grade 10 that I bought textbooks. I hated having to share with people, who were clearly disgruntled that they had to shift their books a little to the left so I could see. I would always tell them to keep it directly below their eyes; that I would be able to see regardless. I would borrow their books after school, and sometimes take it home, on the few nights that they wouldn't be using them. Literature classes were particularly challenging, for people would never lend those overnight. I never read any of the assigned books between grades 7 and 9- if the characters, themes, and the like, were not mentioned in class, I would never write about them.

Going home to a house without electricity. It was cut this morning while I was in school, for we couldn't find the money to pay the bill. Homework would be done under intimate candlelight, which burned out more quickly than I would have liked it to. The old iron was heated on the stove the next morning, for my school uniform had to be ironed before going to school...be careful now though, don't "blak op" the uniform.

My my my. How far we have come. I look back today, with a smile on my face...disbelieving that I faced those challenges as a child. What I have realized though, is that I wasn't alone. All over the world, from Mexico, to Kenya, to Namibia, to Fiji, other children were having similar experiences. We were all ashamed of our poverty, and wished to live differently. Little did we realize then how greatly our situations could change over time. Tis only a decade later, but things have radically changed for the better.

If only we realized the possibilities then...

The Jew and the Male Homosexual…Hated to Death

2009-02-06T17:43:00.002+01:00

This is an extract from an essays I wrote for a class on LGBT Studies:

Constructed Identities: The Jew and the Male Homosexual…Hated to Death

Jean Paul Sartre writes that anti-Semitic hatred of Jews is derived from “nothing but passion” (Sartre: 1995, 19). This sentiment resonates strongly with the irrational treatment of individuals perceived to be homosexuals in Jamaica. These popular phrases ring out everywhere: ‘Wi no waahn no bati man bout ya’ (we do not want homosexuals here), ‘faiya bon fi a batibwaai’, (burn homosexuals), ‘dem fi ded’ (they must be killed). Perception is all, for few Jamaicans could escape violent murder, typically at the hands of a mob, if they declared themselves homosexual. Sartre’s book Anti-Semite and Jew (Sartre: 1995), seeks to define the origins of anti-Semitism, and the subsequent construction of the Jewish identity. This etymology of hate is useful for understanding the construction of demonized identities, as analysis of the text reveals striking similarities with the condition of Jews, and that of the modern male homosexual, in Jamaica. Sartre claims, “if the Jew didn’t exist, the Anti-Semite would invent him” (Ibid 19), but it seems implausible that such a claim could be made on homophobes, who would rather not contend with homosexuals. Ultimately, the Jew, and the homosexual are constructed identities, shaped by an irrational hatred; the Jew cannot easily reject his condition, for it is a birthright, but the homosexual may perform the identity of the normative heterosexual, and more easily escape victimization.

Jamaica has the most churches per square mile in the world, a fact, which declares its unwavering belief in Christian morality. Going to church on a Saturday or Sunday is a national pastime that is taken very seriously. Further, Christian doctrines are reemphasized in all schools across the country, where morning devotions and daily prayers take place. Belief in Christian morality is frequently used to justify homophobia, leaving no room for other considerations, because, God’s word is absolute. This view is similar to that of the Anti-Semite, who Sartre describes as being attracted to fixed ideas. “They do not want any acquired opinions; they want them to be innate” (Ibid 19). I find this description to accurately fit the disposition of Jamaicans, who refuse to discuss the matter of homosexuality openly. It is a non-issue, ‘because there are no homosexuals in Jamaica.’ Interestingly, Sartre goes on to describe hate as a ‘faith,’ the same word used to describe spiritual beliefs in a God that are not based on proof. Religion provides a backbone for the homophobe to depend on, as it itself is grounded in faith based beliefs which secure the intellectual certainty sought after. This oppressive environment is a great deterrent to practicing demonized homosexual activity, so the homosexual must perform.

Similar to the experience of millions of Jews who were persecuted by anti-Semites and even murdered for being Jew during the Second World War, homosexuals today risk losing their lives for self-identifying as gay. While the Jew could not easily escape his condition, which was often determined at birth, the modern homosexual has the ability to perform the identity of a heterosexual, and lead a life in relative safety. The necessity to perform an identity, like the “inauthentic Jew,” brings into focuses the far-reaching impact of hatred, described by Sartre as “a regressive social force and a conception deriving from the pre-logical world” (Ibid 143). Like the anti-Semite before him, the homophobe wins on all accounts (Ibid 74). The homosexual is but an intruder in the heteronormative Jamaican society, who is compelled to remain silent, or be the object of ridicule. Heterosexuals coined the term homosexual, to define sexually deviant men who choose against nature, to have sex with other men. The hatred directed towards self-proclaimed homosexuals will not cease, until such a time that the notion of sexual deviance is completely discarded, and the homosexual is made human again.

Bibliography

Sartre, Jean-Paul. Anti-Semite and Jew: An Exploration of the Etiology of Hate. Ed. Michael Walzer. Trans. George J. Becker. New York: Schocken, 1995.

It's a Boy! Gender and Sex

2009-01-25T20:55:00.001+01:00

The room is poorly lit and humid. Kimeisha lies on the bed, legs spread, panting heavily. The midwife hovers over her, insisting that she remain calm, for increased apprehension will make the process more difficult. She manages to inhale enough air to push feebly. Her energies are spent. "Again...Push! Puuuush! Puuuush! I see th...there we go!”

(without hesitation)

"It's a BOY!"

A day later

It’s a boy, so give Aunt Donnette all the pink and yellow chemises for her daughter. Oral wont need them, of course. “He’s so cute. All the girls ago rush im. Den nurse, a how fi im likkle buddy big so? Dat normal? Heh! Like father like son.

2 years later

Oral cries constantly (…who knew babies do that). His mother snatched the ball away from him, because “im ramp tumoch! Tap di bawlin to man…yaa gyal pikni?”

1 year later

“Gwaan go play wid Stefani, shi pretty. Man fi lov ooman. Yu si how shi sexy? Watch yaaaaa… a di real man dis yuno. Watch how im whole on pan ar frack tail. Big op Oral! A my bwoy dat.” (The mother smiles proudly)

***

Gender. So much of our understanding of the term is based on cultural practice, yet we consider gender roles to be essential. From the moment we are born, we are typecast into roles that we have no choice in shaping. All men wear blue, because men are the same. And all girls wear pink, because girls are the same. Personality traits are irrelevant to this. By virtue of one's having a penis, or a vagina, they are bonded to all others with the same sexual organ.

There will be effeminate boys and masculine girls, but dealing with them is easy. All we need is for them to fit the gender binary we have created. Each time they exhibit tendencies considered to be typical of the opposite gender, we must chastise them. Forget the potential hurt your insensitive words might inflict. This is for their own good.

So gender benders get ridiculed...so long as they choose to defy the norm. Their only escape is reformation, migration, or slaughter.

You choose. Because obviously your sexuality is a choice. You decide which of the escape routes best appeals to you...

Will societies ever learn that gender and sexuality are not as rigid as they would like it to be? I doubt it. Surely it is easier to assume that everyone belongs to one of two distinct gender descriptions. And surely, a homosexual individual who might not identify with the stereotypes of "their gender" will contribute to social chaos and anarchy. God forbid "normal people" be influenced to engage in homoerotic activity. We don't want you here...I am normal, why can't you be?

I have managed to suppress aspects of my personality that society deems objectionable- why can't you?

You disturb my Christian sensibilities...

You disgraceful excuse for a human being...why would you ahhh! I don't understand you. I want nothing to do with you.

You cannot be my friend anymore. You are no longer my child. You aren't even a citizen of this country. Go away, to debased societies where you can be appreciated. No here...not Jamaica.

FINE!