Elizabeth J Jones – A Dark Iris

Tags

Bermuda, book review, Caribbean, Caribbean books, Caribbean Books Foundation, Caribbean writers, Elizabeth Jones, History, Sally Bassett, The Dark Iris

This is an official Caribbean Books Foundation review http://www.caribbeanbooks.org/

First post for the year, and it’s a review! If you noticed, there was no December Caribbean Books review. Apologies, but December of 2019 was seriously hectic and needed to chill.

But we are here once again reading Caribbean books and letting the world know what’s what about them. This month I’ll be reviewing A Dark Iris by Elizabeth J. Jones.

We’re visiting the isle of Bermuda this session, but not in recent times. Well, it kinda is recent. The story is based in 1972, it’s not like we’re talking 1872 here. That’s still pretty recent, right? Although when you consider that 1972 is just two years shy of fifty years ago… geez, it does kinda make me feel old.

Anyway. The story follows our young girl Rebekah, living on the island of Bermuda. Like any girl child of that age and time with parents who are high achievers themselves, she’s worried about getting into the prestigious Meridian Institute that her parents also attended.

She’s stressed out further by the fact that her home life has turned upside down. Her parents have very different ideas as to what constitutes success. Her father’s insistence to leave his white-collar job to pursue his passion in the fields causes her parents to separate as her mother believes no respectability can come from being a farmer.

All of this causes Rebekah to have a double mind over what she wants in life as well. Like her father she wants to follow her passion, her painting which she is brilliant at and her father encourages her to do so. But she also wants to please her mother by doing well in school and achieving what her mother wants for her, which does not include her art.

And in the midst of all of this, there are the visions she suddenly starts to see of people who lived centuries before her.

Her compulsions to paint or draw what she sees whenever and wherever she is at the moment often lands her in trouble at school and at home. The visions are poignant and sometimes disturbing, but she eventually realises through the help of one of her teachers how important they are as they reveal the truth about an event in Bermuda’s history.

Now, this book is mainly fiction. I believe I got it at the Bocas Lit Festival last year and it’s been stuck in my bookshelf ever since. It was a Code Burt Award finalist in 2018, and I can see why. When I started reading the book I honestly was mildly interested. I don’t hold to the belief that a book should hook you at the first page anyway and any reader who discards a book because the first chapter didn’t make them go ‘wooooooooooow’ needs a slap on the wrist. I mean, come on, you can’t be a real reader if you are dismissing books so quickly.

In the 25 or more books that I read last year only ONE book had me completely at hello and still, even after that wonderful beginning I would only give it 4 out of 5 stars overall. But several of the books that started ‘mildly interesting’, I mean they weren’t bad beginnings I just wouldn’t fall off my seat over it, a lot of those books I actually gave 5 stars. Because by the 3rd or 4th chapter things became clear that they were going somewhere far more interesting than the book that had a great first opening chapter!

This book was like that. The story started off like an ordinary day. Very unassuming, bound to end up like all the rest until you’re tumbling down the rabbit hole of racism, century-old ‘murder mysteries’, gender prejudices and assassinations of public officials all being seen through the eyes of a teenaged girl. I learned a lot about Bermuda’s history in a way that struck me more acutely had I heard a random snippet about ‘Sally Bassett’ on some coached tourist tour through Hamilton.

Again, the author makes it very clear that this is a reimagining of history, but it brings to light the atrocities that would have been faced by slaves during the course of the slave trade and to their descendants a long time after. The story was very vivid and very well-paced, but honestly, my favourite parts were reading about Rebekah’s paintings.

Just the discussions she had about capturing light and shadow with her tutor and the descriptions of her painting were engaging. I like learning random little things from books. So for instance, now I know that when painting, white isn’t just white. Light reflects all kinds of different colours in white itself and blending and layering them can give you the right effect.

For eg. this painting @MujercitaArt  Also @ MeBeingImpressed .com 😀

I also loved to read the feelings Rebekah had about her art and the thought that encompassed her work while she brought it to life was very well illustrated. Even without any actual illustrations. This was my only real disappointment about the book I think. It really was a shame that no paintings were included. I hope that if there ever is an updated edition that one or two of Rebekah’s paintings can be rendered by an artist and added as I would love to see them. Not because I don’t trust my robust imagination, but because art is pretty and I want to see it!

I honestly liked all the characters. None of them felt out of place or overly cliché. Rebekah’s mother irked me the most. I guess you could say she was the antagonist, but the story was not that simple. There were several people who created obstacles for the main character. I just really had a particular angst towards her more than any other antagonist. She wanted her daughter to be the best she could be and essentially tried to open her eyes to the reality of the world at that time. A good education would open doors for her.

But you see, looking down on people who do ‘certain’ kinds of jobs is a pet peeve of mine. I grew up with proud, working-class parents and some of the most successful people I have known in my life have been farmers or people with non-white collar jobs. Her mother’s ideas were severely outdated, but then again it was 1972, and it did create interesting conflict when needed, which I assume was the idea. A good book to help show the smallies that everyone has their own story and their own goals in life and it doesn’t do to frown on someone’s choices just because you’ve chosen a different path.

So please give Elizabeth J. Jones’ gripping semi-historical fiction a try and visit the author’s website where you can find more of their work, contact information and links for their social media accounts to catch up on what they’re doing next! Also, visit The Dark Iris book page on Caribbean Books where you can find purchase links. Please help support the author and the foundation by buying the book there. Thanks for reading and see you next month for another review!

– N. Gomes, Caribbean Books Foundation

If you are a Caribbean author and wish to get your book reviewed by the website please send an email to Reviews@caribbeanbooks.org to get more information. You can send a copy of your book, in either hardcover or digital format. All free copies of Caribbean literature sent to us are not shared or copied in any way. They are used simply for review purposes.

NB: We don’t post reviews of unpublished manuscripts here unless you want us to. We also offer proofreading services specifically with Caribbean authors in mind and will give you private feedback.

What I Don’t Miss About Being A Girl

Tags

20's, 30's, adolescence, contentment, Happiness, Image, perception, reflections, young girls, young women

I loved being a little girl. It is still hands-down the happiest period of my life.

Everywhere looked like this to me! Neverland!

My imagination ran wild then, and the world was a magical, beautiful place. Being a teenager… not so much.

So, looking at some young women crossing the street yesterday, I found myself very happy to be done with that part of my life. Which is strange because since Saturn has returned in my cycle, I’ve found myself mourning the loss of my 20 somethings to working at unfulfilling jobs, not having nearly enough fun, and just being too frustrated over life and my future in general.

Like most people entering their 30’s, I started to wonder that if I had been braver back then and just went after stuff that I wanted maybe my life would be more fulfilling now. However, despite any fleeting wish to get that time back (heck, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing anyway, so let be), I do NOT miss the confusion and the drama of it all.

Can I get an ‘Amen’?

It upsets me though when people belittle young girls for their choices, as a matter of fact, young people in general. Stop being so hypocritical. None of us were perfect at that age and made all the right choices, so just stop. And even if you were baby Jesus reincarnated, you probably had the right influences in your life to keep you on the straight and perfect!

Whether the skeletons are hidden behind a closet door somewhere or laid out on the front yard for everyone to see, we ALL had our teen-aged angsty years and early 20’s lack of judgment, what was I thinking?!, dies 100 deaths, can’t believe I did this or wore that moment(s). Some peoples moments were worse than others, but we all had something!

However, possibly the most popular critique I hear is about their clothing. Should I even mention the fact that half the people who frown their faces at these same young people and how they dress now, used to dress in clothing that would have seemed scandalous and inappropriate in their day? By all means, ’60s and ’70s party clothes might be proper today, well, unless you’re Cher or Wrathchild anyway, but back then, maybe not so much! They were defying their elders and the norms of social dress codes with flying colours too!

I don’t care for skimpy clothes or trousers hanging off my ass either, but here’s the thing that a lot of people don’t realise, or seem to pretend not to remember, your perception of your body changes drastically when you hit your teens. So I think it’s safe to expect some kind of drastic behaviour on their part.

Perception, it refers to becoming aware of something through your senses. I can’t speak for boys, but as a little girl, you come from a world where pretty clothes are the only physical perceptions you measure yourself by.

That other girl is prettier because she has nicer clothes than you. If you had a pretty outfit too then you would also be pretty! So, a pretty outfit automatically makes you prettier no matter what your body looks like. It’s all about the Cinderella transformation moment and once you have the pretty ensemble your business fix!

Your body and how it looks are of little consequence to you and not a cause for concern or worry. Or at least that’s how it used to be, and should still be.

But then you get breasts, and your hips widen. You may even put on a little weight in certain areas below your waistline and your facial features get more womanly. All of a sudden your body is different than it was before, shaped much like some of the pretty women you watched from afar in magazines and movies. To the point that it almost feels like you’ve undergone a mind swap to a new body. And then the confusion starts.

Because nobody helps you with this. Of course, you get introduced to your first bra, and the wonderful world of what a period is which literally attacks you out of nowhere (NO ONE truly explains just how bad a period is, unfortunately, so I tried to once).

People who never paid attention to you before suddenly start to, like boys and men and, other girls trying to accept their new bodies as well and measuring themselves up to you. And you know that all of this, the ‘mean girl’ behaviour and unwanted male attention, is because of how your body looks, NOT your clothes, your body that you can’t simply change the next day like your wardrobe to stand out less.

And that’s not even the half of it.

You have to cope with all of this change while dealing with the myriad number of opinions going around about your body. Seriously, everyone around you seems to think that, ‘oh, she’s at that age now, maybe I should tell her about this and that‘. And then Mary, Jane and her mother-in-law all have something to say about your body. A body that you are still getting used to and frankly don’t appreciate people making into the topic of the day!

Or suddenly people who used to laugh and talk normally with you begin to speak to you more ‘carefully’, more politely, and look at you in a discomforting way. Because you’re a young woman now, and interactions that would have seemed innocent when you were a child may lead to misunderstandings now.

You also can’t play ‘kid games’ anymore, though I applaud the girls who put on their sports bras and go for it anyway. But most of the time, after being pushed just one time on your very new, very tender breasts, by one of your counterparts on the playground, sitting out the rough play becomes the norm. Yeah, those breasts stay pretty darn tender for a solid decade. More awkwardness!

And yes, most parents suck at helping you with this. As I said, they’ll get the bra and hand out the ‘first menstrual cycle’ pamphlets but they absolutely suck at preparing you for the drastic shift in social dimensions, norms, and perceptions when your body finally breaks the hormonal growth curve.

They do not tell you that it is apparently completely fine for a man to glare at you like he wants to eat you for an hour in a line at the bank. They do not prepare you for the double standards of walking down a street and having several people be very verbally appreciative of your figure in an outfit only to then have the same said outfit be used as a reason to justify harassment, should you get harassed.

For a young woman, trying to absorb all of this and love her new body despite, it is the most confusing shit EVER! Enough to make you hate yourself and your new body. Because at the end of the day, you didn’t ask for any of this to be shoved onto you overnight, and you don’t see why things have to change. Or why you have to be herded into circles with other girls that you don’t know, might not even like at all, but are expected to get along with because you ‘belong’ with them.

The point is, I am not surprised that some girls dress the way they do, or even act the way they do. It’s a confusing time! And you get to a point where you can only do two things. Although you are still very uncomfortable, but at the same time very fascinated with your new body, you still don’t know WHAT TO DO WITH IT!

So you can either say, ‘hey, I look like these pretty women now, so maybe I should dress like them’, and try not to be too creeped out with the response. Or you can cover up because of how uncomfortable the unwanted attention is making you feel. And if you look around, girls are always doing one or the other.

Now I know a lot of women are probably going, “no, there are other options. Just accept yourself!” But that comes with time. And trust me it takes years, years, and more years, to truly be comfortable with your body. And when I say comfortable I don’t mean comfortable showing it off. Because some women who choose this option many times are hiding deep insecurities about how they view themselves, and the skimpy outfits are just a show, a retaliation against the feeling of being insecure and not pretty enough.

When I say comfortable I mean completely content and relaxed in knowing who you are, and what you are not and being okay with that, whatever it may be. To the point that you do not care about fitting the perception of beauty that you think others expect of you which is what makes you feel uncomfortable anyway.

You’re just over it! Men are men, if they want to stare they’ll stare, no matter what you wear. Boobs are boobs, every woman I know has at least one. They are no longer fascinating to me! Your ass is just a welcome seat cushion, and hips are just another fact of life, lot’s of women have them. At some point, you’re just done with worrying and agonising over your body and how it is perceived.

That is the stress that I do not miss. AT ALL! But I know the smallies have it. I can see it in their eyes! Every time I stand by a traffic light and there’s one next to me with something too tight and short on and she’s constantly fixing herself and glancing around to see who’s watching. Seeking that validation, “am I doing this right?”

And I want to hug her and tell her, “Yes, if you are comfortable with yourself you ARE doing it right!” But I know she hasn’t fully accepted herself yet to understand why. I just pray in my heart that somebody she trusts enough to believe will have the sense to ease her mind because she IS confused!

I see it in my niece’s eyes too, when she has to check herself in the mirror a dozen times before she leaves the house. She then proceeds to take two dozen selfies, I KIDD YOU NOT! Every angle she can think of! And I get it! She’s enamoured with her new self and how beautiful she’s become! Like, this is me? Really?

When did I get so fabulous?!

Her body is so new and different than it was before. Part of her wants to show it off and another part doesn’t because she’s slowly learning how fast having the body she has can turn creepy and uncomfortable. But she’ll figure it out, I know she will because she has people to help her.

So be kind with your words. Don’t judge and criticise. Let them know that they’ll have a lot less anxiety if they pay less attention to what they look like and to what people think of how they look. That their life will be less burdened, and much happier.

They may not have to worry about feeding a family and paying a mortgage, and I know these ‘chirren’ don’t always listen even when your intentions are good. But they have things to work out too, anxieties and fears just like everyone did at their age. You wouldn’t be a fair adult if you didn’t help them become good ones as well along the way.

Don’t just be a critic, you know, sometimes they lie. 🙂

-Written By Travesaou

Copyright © Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

It Doh Wuk So Down Here

Tags

bus rides, Caribbean, Caribbean people, ethnicity, freshwater yankee, JAVA, July August vacation, opinion, race, vacation

Now in order for this post to make sense, I need to tell you a few things about myself. You may already know but for the sake of those reading for the first time…

I live on a Caribbean island. NOT South America. NOT Central America. The Caribbean. Close by, but a different region.

Somewhere inside the orange line…

My grandparents, and to an extent my great-grandparents, owned their own land and built their own house. My parents did the same and I have older and younger siblings. We all still live on the islands, have never migrated and most of my immediate relatives are here as well. I don’t particularly care to tell foreigners where I’m from or my background because there are far too many misconceptions that I’d rather not deal with.

But back to why this is relavant, and I’m sorry if this becomes a semi-rant. I took the bus home the other day. It was the first time I took a bus in a long while and while I have no problem taking the bus, once it’s on time, I always meet up some characters there that make me… sigh …wonder.

Truth.

Now there are the comical ones with the loud stories that by all intents keep the ride entertaining. There are the talkative old people, the harmless but ardent political debaters, and the rowdy school children. I can take them all, even the people who complain about the bus service from the time they get on the bus to the time they get off.

However, there’s only one group of people that drive me absolutely mad every time they open their mouth on a bus or anywhere else I meet them for that matter.

The ‘freshwater yankees’. Now, if you are from the Caribbean most likely you know what this term means. But for those of you who don’t…

A ‘freshwater yankee’ is someone of Caribbean descent who migrated to live in the U.S. of A for a short time, anywhere from a fortnight to a few years, and when they return they act as if they were born and raised in North America. After just a short time their accent and mannerisms drastically change to ‘resemble’ that of those who live in North America, and they suddenly claim to know more about the States than the people who were actually born and raised there.

The term ‘freshwater’ likens them to freshwater fish. Since Caribbean people predominantly get their fish from the sea, it hints at them being a fake, because they are not really from the ocean or the original source. They are pretending to be something they are not. Yankee, of course, is an old term for an American.

Now from what I understand this can apply to Caribbean persons who migrate to the UK as well but somehow the ones who go there tend not to return as often and even when they do their attitude is not as disgusting as those who migrate to the USA. I don’t know why.

The really annoying thing about this is that they come back to the islands, verbally proclaiming how wonderful ‘living abroad’ is and how great they are doing and how everything is 100 times better ‘up there’ compared to ‘down here’. All in a fake North American accent by the way.

Now, I am not even going to entertain any suggestions or criticisms about if the USA is or is not ‘better’ than any other country. This is not about that. I also have no problem with someone moving abroad to seek new opportunities or take up permanent residence. It’s your life, and you’re free to live it wherever you want.

The thing is… MOST people in the world have some kind of loyalty to the land of their birth, even a tiny bit. And while each country has clear differences in economic growth and stages of development, home is where your heart is despite your circumstances, or where you may move to. Most people can attribute that to not just a particular place or people but to a particular country or region as well.

For me, my heart is in my country, which makes it the best place in the world to me, and I’m sure a lot of people in the US or other countries feel the same way about their own country despite where they may live. Statistics don’t matter, what matters is how you feel about the place.

So if you come into my country and verbally bash my homeland in my presence in the most hypocrical way possible with your fake accent and ‘better than’ attitude (like you would know, you’ve been abroad for two minutes!)… breathes That is cause to get knock down. Plain talk, bad manners.

So there are going to be spurts of local twang during this post. I don’t normally use it while writing on my blog because I know people from different countries read my posts and they won’t understand what I’m saying. So I try to use the Queen’s English like I learned it in school but things like this make my blood boil and my only response comes out…. you know what, I’ll translate.

Freshwater yankees, hear nah, if yuh like de States, fine, me ain’ vex with yuh fuh dat. Buh stay dey, nah? If it so dread ‘down here’, whey yuh come back for? We doh like yuh head anyway so why botha come?

Translation: Freshwater yankees, please note, if you like to live in North America, that’s no problem. I am not upset about that. But if it’s so bad ‘down here’, why do you come back? Why don’t you just stay where you are? We don’t really like you anyway so why do you bother to visit?

I know a lot of you feeling me right now on this cause holidays start and they on their way.

I always wonder about this because most people I know cannot stand their freshwater yankee family! You always hear them complaining during the holiday season about how their family from the US are coming back and they can’t stand their attitude.

Please. We want nothing more than to immediately put you on a plane and gladly send you back to the States you love so much. So why do you come down here to trouble the souls of those who are happy to be living here?

And you see them on the streets during July-August Vacation or JAVA (yes, that’s what we call it! NOT Summer!) always walking the streets talking loudly about how, ‘crime down here is so bad’. Yet still, your handbag swinging freely behind you and nobody attempt to grab it yet. You’re eating, drinking, partying and coming home late at night without an incident. But crime so bad down here, right?

Listen. I’m not saying the islands don’t have crime. Far from it. I’m not even saying you can’t have an opinion and talk about current events. However, it’s the state of the world! Why the need to lambaste everything here as if your precious USA doesn’t also have its share of problems? There’s crime everywhere! People still travelling to Europe despite all the terrorists attacts and still going China for trade despite the Communist Party. Feel free to come an go but why yuh hadda get on so disgustin’? (Translation: Feel free to travel anywhere you want but why must you behave in such an intolerable manner?) I don’t know what world these people living in? Jah, put ah han’! (Lord, help me to deal with these people!)

Just… ugh

How did this unfortunate semi-rant start? There was a particular woman on the bus, the freshwater yankee, who was talking about race. I hate the topic race. I am so tired of the whole twisted subject. However, I am especially tired of the way people in the USA dance around it, and between television, social media and the freshwater yankees, the North American do-si-do on race has permeated the soil of many a land outside of their borders.

Anyway, this lady on the bus was telling the poor senior gentleman who was probably regretting striking up a conversation with her that he is wrong for calling himself ‘mixed’ and if he did, it meant he was ashamed of being ‘black’.

Sorry, I’m not following your logic.

Now I understand Americans have a different idea of what being ‘mixed’ means and it comes from their looong history of slavery. Now the Caribbean also has a looong history of slavery under their belt but somehow we managed to come out of it a lot less messed up than the States did. The backlash is serious like a heart attack over there, to the point that they are still paying for out-dated, never been true ideas of race and colour in the present generation who are trying to deal with all the mess.

But here’s the thing, the USA’s way of viewing race is not the right way or the only way. Countries have different histories, different backgrounds which would lead them to think differently and have different conclusions about their identity.

When someone says they are ‘mixed’ in the islands it’s because they ARE. Simple. It’s the truth! That’s all. They’re not hiding a deep seated fear or shame of being ‘black’, they’re just ans-wer-ing the question. And half the time they’re not going to be taking offense for you asking either. MOST people in the Caribbean are made up of more than one ethnicity or race. I’m sure there are people who aren’t but it’s so prevalent you can be someone like me who literally doesn’t know anyone who isn’t mixed.

That’s just the way it is over here. Everyone intermarries and is mixed up in some way or the other. It’s the norm, and there is nothing wrong with that. Most times the question isn’t if you are mixed but how you are mixed. But apparently saying that you are mixed is an insult in North America because this woman acted like it was!

I honestly wanted to tap her on the shoulder and give her a piece of my mind but I have long learned not to interrupt bus conversations, no matter how tempting and even if they are loud enough for the whole bus to hear! This woman had to be mad though! You have the nerve to tell off someone over how they are categorising their own ethnicity when you are misrepresenting your own nationality? You fake North American!

Who the hell said we have to believe or do as the UN or the US or any other organization or country does? This is NOT the USA. And just because you have issues with Caucasian America and insist on cutting them out of your ethnic background (her grandmother was apparently Caucasian) doesn’t mean you’re right. Go ahead and be a proud black woman if it makes you feel better but don’t try to force your ignorance down anybody’s throat.

The poor man took to telling her about what a nice man his Indian father was to try to convince her. It didn’t work. He even tried to change the subject but it only led to her talking about all the other ways the US is better than ‘down here’. I could see the venom in eyes rolling around the bus.

The man finally turned into a silent nodding robot. He was probably praying for her to get off before he did. But imagine that, having to defend the geniality of your father’s race to justify why you appreciate both your ethnic backgrounds because somebody’s projection of themself insists that you are wrong. I just wanted to…

And I see it all over American Twitter and Instagram. All the ‘biracial and proud’, biracial and beautiful’ hashtags and posts, and I am so confused. Yes, be proud of who you are but it almost comes off like they are trying to convince themselves that they should be proud which is madness! Why do you need to justify your mixed race at all?? You are what you are. But after listening to that woman I think I understand why. If there are people like her in North America who ‘race-shame’ mixed race people if they don’t conform to being labelled as just ‘black’ then… I don’t know. My head hurts. See why I don’t like this topic?

How about we make it simple. How about we recognise and salute every race and ethnicity that came together to make us? And then, how about we appreciate ourselves as a new whole, that exists because of and despite our parents varying backgrounds? Isn’t that a lot simplier? No headaches and going around in emotional circles and guilt traps.

I am just… thanking God she didn’t sit next to me.

Because I would have rightfully let her know that it doh wuk so ‘down here’. Here in the Caribbean, you are from the Caribbean. I know people who come from all kinds of ethnic backgrounds and races living here and we all understand the same jokes, eat the same food, talk the same way, honour our ancestry and appreciate the land of our birth because we’re all Caribbean people. It doesn’t matter if Mummy was Chinese and Daddy was Syrian or Daddy was First People and African mixed and Mummy is an Indian ‘gyal’. Or if both your parents are the same race! What matters more is if you genuinely identify with the unique culture of the island you were born in, and to being a Caribbean person first!

And I think that’s why freshwater yankees rub us the wrong way, even worse than an uneducated tourist. You are from here. You are supposed to know better! You just jump in the USA and take on the accent, the culture and the way they think about everything just so just so and suddenly everyone else don’t know what they talking about? Give me chance and take your ingenuine self somewhere else please.

Please note I am not referring to those who have migrated to the USA or elsewhere (my darling Aunt being one of them) and still love their old country as much as their new one and speak no ill of either. And for those of you who can’t wait for your ‘yankee’ family to reach to love them up, bless you, you have some nice ones. That’s the way you are supposed to do it!

The rest of you ‘freshwater yankees’ take salt in your veins and let it burn with shame for acting like such know-it-all fools in your motherland. AT LEAST have the decency to have some damn respect for the land that first bore your ungrateful soul, even if you no longer call it home.

Have a good day loves! Remember, critics may lie. 🙂

-Written By Travesaou

Copyright © Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

 

God Is NOT A Trini

Tags

2017, donate, God, Habitat For Humanity, hurricane, ITNAC, Trini, Trinidad and Tobago

Is it possible that for this hurricane season we can get rid of the “God is a Trini” term?

Let me put it another way.

Is it possible that for this hurricane season we can stop being so damn insensitive to the millions of people in the region who have literally had their lives destroyed because ‘God is a Trini’.

Now I know nobody really believes it. Every country has their own sayings that only make sense there. It is just our way of explaining why several times we have been directly in the path of a hurricane only to find that it suddenly changed its mind a few miles out and went in another direction. God must be a Trini. *shrug*

However, I don’t think my Trinbagonian brothers and sisters who raise this ‘nothing can touch us cause God is a Trini’ flag high every year understand the depth of their growing ignorance and again, just plain old in-sen-si-ti-vi-ty.

To say ‘God is a Trini’ means…

God doesn’t care about anyone else in the world but us, to the point that God will direct a hurricane or other natural disaster in another country’s path to destroy them instead because HE PASSPORT FROM HERE.

Alyuh serious?

And people just keep saying it like it’s a joke. IT IS NOT A JOKE FOR THE REST OF THE REGION! Whole islands have been completely destroyed, death tolls are raising daily, and you sitting in a bar, thunder and lightening outside, place flooding all over and talking bout nothing going to happen here cause ‘God is a Trini.’

LOOK NAH!

Unfortunately there are no gifs in my repertoire to fully convey my frustration over this but it’s somewhere between this…

and this…

And then when time comes to assist our Caribbean brothers and sisters, it’s only excuses and complaints as to why we can’t ‘afford’ to. So on top of everything, we’re also stingy.

We’re like that one character in every story that everyone is bound to hate because they:

1. care about nobody and thinks others misfortune are their own fault.  “Sorry, God’s not from your country so too bad.”
2. thinks their needs are much greater than anyone else’s.  “We’re in a recession (um, so’s the whole world) we can’t send money for anybody. Salt.”

I am disgusted. By our lack of empathy and kindness. And I know that there are some people who are trying to help, who are signing up for Habitat For Humanity and are making donations and organising to get stuff to people who need it.

But the majority of us are largely doing nothing, are simply shrugging it off as someone else’s problem and moving on with our lives in a bubble of false reality that *JESUS* born here and has an ID card like yours. Just give me a break, please!

If we keep thinking like this, what happens when disaster finally hits us, and it will! God wasn’t a Trini in 1974 and 1933.

Okay, so our position on the equator makes us “immune” to >>most<< (not all) disasters but SO WHAT? I don’t know, maybe we’ve been placed in a position to not get hit so we can help others. If you can’t find the compassion in your heart at least give and help so that when our time comes, people will remember and help us too! Sense, yes?

So simple to understand and people just… Lord

God is no respecter of persons (in other words Jesus ain’t no Trini!) and even if you don’t believe in a God, trust me, karma exists. What goes around always comes around and a hurricane looks a lot like a boomerang…

– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

Should We Celebrate Men?

Tags

Brotherhood, Celebrate, Hecklers, Men's Day, November 19th, Respect

So, November the 19th was International Men’s Day.

I meant to post this two days ago. But between a birthday, sleepovers, heavy rainfall and a sudden long power outage, it just was not happening.

But really it was. Since when? Since 1992. Yes, over 20 years now. Doesn’t anybody celebrate it? I hope so but not anybody I know.

Didn’t hear anything on the radio… or see any posts on Facebook or Twitter about it but since I was busy with other things, maybe I missed it. Cause I am sure people wouldn’t miss the chance to celebrate the fathers and brothers and husbands and sons who have made the grass greener on their side of the fence.

Wouldn’t they?

I am trying hard to keep this post happy and in good spirits in celebration of the ‘men’s day’ but honestly all I can think about is the jack-ass of a man (referred to hereafter as Jack-ass) who heckled me on the street two days ago while I made my way home from my sister’s, umbrella up, pants soaked and rolled up to my knees.

There was more than one heckler for the day but this particular one kept yelling all the things he would do to me at the 43rd hour of the day (can’t tell you when that is) EVEN after I had turned the corner and he was at the end of the other street. I could still hear him.

It made me think that maybe this is why it is hard for people to celebrate or even recognise International Men’s day. Why posts are met with anger and resentment and you have to justify why you posted at all or, you just get no likes or comments because no one wants to say the obvious.

That men have been the cause of most if not all of the world’s ills and detriment throughout history. Now in all honesty, I have to say that that was their own fault because they insist on being in charge all the time! If you would give women a chance to lead you will see that we can shit things up just as badly and then we can level the playing field of blame and you wouldn’t come across as looking so bad all the time. Just a suggestion.

But I sat down to write this and seriously spaced out for 10 mins not knowing what to put down, the man’s voice ringing in my ear and the uncomfortable anger burning in my stomach because I knew I could not do anything about it at the time. People were watching you see. Can’t have witnesses at the scene of a crime.

But I don’t want it to be this way. It doesn’t make sense having a day for men and hardly anyone thinks it’s worthwhile to celebrate it. Well, no one I know. We need to change that. MEN especially need to change that. They need to get more active in dealing with the jackasses that besmudge the good name of their gender. Because I’m harsh with the ones who wreck mine! I’ve gone Star Quality on the few women I know who’s even come around me with this #FuckItUpChallenge madness!

Despite the shit I take from far too many men on a regular basis they should have a better November the 19th. Because men have done good in society and in the world. From inventions, to taking the steps to passing life changing laws that make everyone’s life valuable, to literally physically building towns and cities and nations.

I have great respect for builders. Yes, I know they are not all men, I’m just saying the building you are sitting in right now, or the sky scraper you are looking out at, at some point many people, MOST LIKELY men, together built that with their own two hands. I find that amazing.

It would help A LOT if parents got better at raising their sons to be more respectful of a woman’s space, even in public, and respectful of themselves!

Too many men shy away from close interaction with other men for fear of appearing gay. Quite frankly most men only heckle women to assert that they are NOT because they are so desperately afraid someone will challenge them on it.

Getting boys more open, or rather I should say ‘keeping’ them open because children naturally are very open and loving, it is society that trains them otherwise, is the key to fixing this.

Let our boys know it’s okay to talk to other men about their problems and be close with them and have healthy brotherly relationships. Then they would feel more comfortable in their masculinity because they are accepted by other men as a man not because of what they do to ‘be’ a man, and they won’t have to constantly feel the need to defend that.

 

Just the way that I know women need other women to bond with, so do men need other men. Even I admit Jack-ass had to have been mentally unstable in someway. I mean the 43rd hour?  Maybe if he had a ‘brother’ to talk to, someone he could confide in and laugh and talk with so he could affirm his masculinity well… who knows.

But now that I’ve shaken that off I would like to encourage all men to be a force to be reckoned with, in their homes, their jobs, society, the world. Don’t sit around passively. Leave the ‘women are taking the world from us’ mantras in the 60’s and 70’s where it belongs. We all share this world and have to take care of it or muck it up together as time will eventually show.

Be someone who gets things done, is kind and dependable. Because you (your gender) has done it all before. No need to kick up the dust but no need to sweep the desert either. Find your balance in the things and people that make you happy. It’s in this place you can be the best man you can be.

You are needed. You are important. The Jack-ass on the road probably gave someone joy at some point in time in his pitiful life and for that I wish him well.

Happy (Be-It-Late ! 😀  ) International Men’s Day!

– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © 2010-2016 Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

Even In Our Dreams

Tags

4am, Dreams, fears, nightmares, reality, sleep, sleepless nights, stories, writing

I really hate my dreams sometimes.

I have very vivid dreams. Most of my stories, the ones I can sit down and plot a beginning and an end for in a day come from my dreams. I almost feel as if I pass into another space and time when I dream, as if I am experiencing me in another dimension. So different and unexpected are the scenarios.

And because it feels real, it invokes serious emotions about things that I have never experienced but because I experienced it in my dream I know how it feels, even if it is just for that moment. Studies have found that the brain is just as active while you are asleep, which is why our body goes into a state of mild paralysis to prevent us from getting up and walking around while we’re sleeping as we might hurt ourselves.

As I said, the initial exaggerated feeling of these dream experiences doesn’t last long but what stays with me, as in my everyday life, is the memory of the feeling. I am not one to hold a grudge for long simply because I honestly forget what the offence was most times but the feeling stays with me. The feeling of being upset with or hurt by this person.

That feeling is a bitch, and most times I can shrug it off because if I can’t recall what you did, then why should I bother. Being upset with someone just takes too much energy. But dreams are different. They rack my mind in a way that real life doesn’t. Maybe I just haven’t had a very traumatic real life experience yet to appreciate the jarring spectacle of reality but I have experienced much trauma in my dreams.

Ever since I was little, as early as four or five, I’ve woken up shaken and in tears, angry or sometimes with a smile. The fantastical monstruos bad dreams are now easier to shrug off as an adult and I have put it to use by making them fodder for my creativity. Those are the ones that get in the story!

Needless to say this dream was a different kind of disturbing, and sad. It was chilling and if I am honest represented deep rooted fears. You know the ones that everyone has but we go along in life as merry as we can be anyway. While it might make a wonderfully meaningless horror story, I won’t be writing it down.

It culminated in one of those quiet awakening moments where your eyes flip open and you are immediately FULLY AWAKE and aware of your surroundings. No drowsiness, no body paralysis to shake off, heart rate up. Just sudden complete consciousness as if you had never been asleep.

Times like this I don’t want to remember my dream far less for creating a picture of words with it. Dreams like these make me question humanity and pace around my house at 4:00 am checking that all the doors are locked and all my loved ones are sleeping safe and sound, and then jump up an hour later because I forgot to check under the beds.

Dreams like these make me wonder who didn’t make it home tonight and leave me far more anxious about my own safety on the roads, near home, far away from home, IN my house! Dreams like these make me sad to think that this can actually happen in the world we live in today.

Dreams like these mark out the course of reality and the consequences of it which many of us go about our days not paying attention to because you know, we have all the time in the world. Dreams like this make you sit and pray the hardest you’ve ever prayed, because you are just dazed by the sinking emotion of it all.

I barely watch the news anymore and might read a headline or two on the newspaper. Unless it is a sudden huge tragedy on a worldwide scale I don’t pay attention. It’s just the way I’ve gotten being busy and moving from one day to the next. Maybe I’ve always been that way a little, I don’t know.

But whenever I have a dream like this I think about all the stupid little things I overlook (I actually did leave a door open) that could cause serious harm if someone took advantage of it. I question my laissez faire attitude to death which I am sure I will probably take on again once the shock has passed. Who, outside of the mentally ill, wants to witness or die a gruesome death and then go through or have their families go through the knee buckling grief of it after that?

Because the truth is tragedy, death, violence, loss and grief can hit any of us at any time and very few of us are prepared for it. Even in our dreams.

– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © 2010-2016 Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

You might also like Nightmares and Bad Dreams

Poetic Justice

Tags

Bad-mind, Gymnastics, Hate, Marisa Dick, Negativity, Rio2016 Olympics, Thema Williams, Trinidad and Tobago

I was waiting for the preliminaries of gymnastics in the Olympics to pass before I posted this, simply because I wanted people to see something. I am not going to explain the situation between the choosing of Marisa Dick over Thema Williams. The story is out there. Everyone has an idea of what went on even though frankly MOST of us still don’t know the facts even though we are okay with spouting our opinion on it.

But if you want to know more about the story you can read it here and here.

What I AM here to discuss is the reaction to Marisa going to the Olympics and now that she has not made it to the next round, I can safely say my point has been made.

What was my point? If you had been on Facebook following the litany of comments under any video or mention of Marisa representing Trinidad and Tobago in the Olympics, you would have seen the long, disgusting slew of hate messages there.

Yes, it was on Twitter as well, but I approach Twitter differently than Facebook. If it’s not on my home stream, I ain’t concerned, and my Twitter neighbours while I am ABSOLUTELY sure had their opinions on Miss Dick, kept their decorum together. I just follow wonderfully level headed people.  😀

Facebook on the other hand, not so much. And the fact that I have a lot of pages means I see a lot too. I have been accused of being un-patriotic because I supported Thema, but then wait I refused to bash Marisa too and wished her all the best, so I was also accused of being naive and ‘falling for anything’ and being a band-wagonist! A band-wagonist? Really?

Here’s the thing, which I tried to explain to people who claimed to be trying to teach their children the ‘right’ thing by their stance as they openly sent death threats to the young woman.

I support Thema, and let me see what the TTOC is going to do after the Olympics about how she was removed. She’s doing something on her end by suing the TTGF but we haven’t forgotten what happened and that the TTOC let this corruption slide. Does that mean that I am going to withdraw my support for the other athletes? Of course not, and those of you doing that are just looking for an excuse since you weren’t going to support them anyway!

Don’t think for a minute me being upset with the situation will catch me lambasting Marisa either, at ANY time, because unlike a lot of you I know how bad vibes does work.

You all remember that song we used to sing when we were little, ‘Love is something if you give it away, it will come right back to you.’ You all remember that? Well, yuh know what, bad vibes works just the same way.

Separate story here, I know this young lady, pretty, fiesty and we always have a good laugh when we are together but she could bad talk people! And don’t talk about if you cross her, instant hatred towards you for life. For LIFE. Knows nothing about forgiveness! Nothing! But yet still, she’s always praying and begging God to work in her life but could never see her way. The amount of bad stuff that has happened to this woman since I have met her. We’re the same age and I haven’t had half her troubles in my life.

Now I understand what is going on with her…

 

“Hate is something if you give it away, it will come right back to you.”

…but she doesn’t get that and Trinis, I’m sorry but the majority of you all cannot grasp that concept either. You all want to talk about bandwagons? We always quick to jump on the HATE bandwagon, spewing our filth and negativity towards other people. I don’t know if is just the drama and the hype you all like but then you’re left wondering why you constantly catching hell in your life?

Because negativity attracts more negativity! Which is why, sad to say, but said young lady hasn’t spoken to me in a while because she realises I REFUSE to jump on the wagon with her. My positivity, even when I am upset, takes the wind out of her rants! And at the very least if I am really upset I would rather do this…

…until my emotions simmer down enough for me to make sense. I not playing that! When you deal in bad vibes, it does come right back to you. Like a boomerang.

I knew from the beginning, that IF there was bacchanal and bad mind going on in getting Marisa to the Olympics, then God help her. ‘Cause the bad foundation she started with was bound to crumble, and ent, so said so done? She did not make it past the prelims?

So what was the use of all that hate talk then?

You just opened the door to negativity in your life for no reason! You planted the seed of bad vibes around you and your family. You didn’t physically do anything to her (Thank God!) but you didn’t have to go that far either.

You could have just let karma do it’s work.

So all who want to ‘down with Dick’ and send death threats, I sorry for you. As I said, the same way karma came back to Marisa, bad vibes done beginning to take root in your life. Poetic justice waiting for you too.

But you know, I’m just another critic. What do I know? *shrug*

– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © 2010-2019 Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

Express Article today Marisa Dick Down In Style

Let’s All Share

Tags

blame, Boy falls into gorilla cage, Cincinnati gorilla killed, parent shamimg, Zoo

Okay, so let’s be honest for a second. I love honesty. It’s hard. Hell, it stings like a paper cut sometimes but 90% of the time if you have an open mind, it is worth it.

Of course, most people don’t have open minds but that’s another topic.

What I want to highlight is the issue with the small child who crawled into a gorilla cage at the Cincinnati zoo and who was subsequently roughly dragged and tussled by one of the gorillas in there who was killed to save him.

Now the child was physically unharmed in the end but… audible sigh People, could you please stop with all the hate towards the mother of the child. It’s getting ridiculous now as hate rampages nowadays normally are.

Yes, my first thought was, ‘How the hell did he get in there? Wasn’t anyone watching him?’

But, and a BIG BUT! All you parents (and non-parents who have had to regularly watch children that are not your own), ask yourself, have you honestly never, ever, ever, EVER, EVER, ever (sing it like Kanye, you’ll understand) lost track of one of your children/temporary charges before?

Two blinks, and suddenly he’s a little further away from you than you would have liked.

Have they ALWAYS been in your sight the entire time you all were out? ESPECIALLY those with SEVERAL small children!

Please do something for me. Stop lying. Just stop. Stop passing blame.

Anything can happen in a few seconds. Especially with small, fast, tiny feet which is why you have to watch them so carefully but it is almost near impossible to keep your eyes on them ALL THE TIME! Deep within your heart, YOU KNOW THIS! Yes, I’m looking at you parent police!

Did the gorilla have to die? Of course not. They could have tranquilised it but we don’t know what the full situation was like. Maybe they panicked, maybe they were unprepared. But that is not the mother’s fault (clearly this child has no father… geez) The zookeepers chose that route and despite what we may think, they said they had good reason for it. Why was the facility so unsecured that a child could get into the cage to begin with? Maybe they just didn’t take 3-year-old ninjas into account when they built it. I don’t know but the decision to shot the gorilla and not tranquilise him was their call. Not the mother’s.

But you know what is the real big question? Most people who were quick to scream, ‘omg, the poor gorilla is dead now. How stupid and selfish that it had to die over this’ would not think to ask…

“Omg, how stupid and selfish of the human race to cause the gorilla to be on the brink of extinction so that the only way we can preserve the species is in this tiny, fake, jungle reserve to keep it safe, from our own species.”

This lioness is not actually in the wild, and it’s just yawning.

Much misplaced compassion but the fact is the gorilla would still be alive if we didn’t have it in captivity in the first place and we have them in captivity because we keep killing them out so, nope, I don’t see how that’s the mother’s fault. That’s on all of us. The human race of course.

So if you are going to blame the mother, take your share of blame, one time!

– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © 2010-2019 Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

First World Problems – Social Injustice and Emojis

Tags

Always#LikeAGirl, confidence, emojis, emoticons, First World Problems

This blog post came out of nowhere!

I have been making notes on what to write about for weeks now and nothing seemed to stick long enough to make me want to open the browser. But this! This kinda annoyed me and it’s only because I wrote about the campaign before and loved the initial idea.

So excuse me while I take a moment from procrastinating with reading unrelated articles, when I should be writing, to further pack my time with stuff that I really should not be doing right now.

Cries inwardly at my lack of commitment

And yes! I am going to be using a lot of these body-less heads during this post because that’s what I am writing about today. EMOJIs and EMOTICONS!

Not just in general, but pertaining to the new Always Emoji ad from their #LikeAGirl campaign. Now as I mentioned before, I covered the #LikeAGirl campaign a year ago on this blog and I was all for it. I don’t pay much attention to the idiots who use my gender to insult someone and then expect me to think it’s just a joke but younger girls are subject to this. I know because I was a young girl once. Girl jokes sucked for me then and it will probably suck for the girls now too.

Now the original ad (which you can find in the link above) and a few others that were made after them were very enlightening.

However this new one…

I know this is a social campaign for monetary gain but my face actually looked a lot like this afterward.

My favourite emoji by the way

I am confused. Always has given me some cute girls, musing about getting more characters on a chat system that are distinctly female like them and not male. I am sorry but I checked half the emoticons on my phone that they called and you just CANNOT tell if it is male or female. Many of them are ambiguous where gender is concerned.

Now if they want new ones, fine. I have no problem with that. Go ahead and ask. It is a service and we are the customers.

But why try to make it into this humongous social injustice that are tying girls confidence down? When did emojis and emoticons become a statement of identity? Do girls and young women really find themselves sad and disheveled in a corner seriously doubting their self worth because they can’t find a female lawyer emoji or lady bicycle emoji to send to their friends to express themselves?

Sorry, Always. NOT drinking the cool aid on this one. Another favourite emoji

Yes, I am using a lot of emoticons! Emojis and emoticons are fun! Even my own mother uses them! Just today she sent me this one!

And then I sent her back this one!

PoW! Kitty cat!

Emojis and emoticons are great quick ways to express yourself because sometimes you don’t always need words (or have time for them) and nothing is wrong with liking them. However, this whole Always Emoji campaign is honestly just making more out of something than it really is.

How do we say it on Twitter?

#FirstWorldProblems

Give me a blasted chance

I have never once noticed that the girl/lady emoji wore pink! Ne-ver. If I had been randomly asked I would have drawn a complete blank. Never gave it a second thought to it. Why? Because it’s not important!! Who cares? I almost feel ridiculous for writing a whole blog post about this!

Because emoticons DO NOT validate my existence. They never did and they never will. And if they validate yours or your child’s existence you probably need to sit down and think over your life and more importantly your parenting strategies.

Here. Want some weighty social injustice to get your girls AND boys behind? This is a Much Much Much Much More Important Gender Inequality Issue

– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © 2010-2019 Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

This Could Have Been Me

Tags

Asami Nagakiya, Carnival 2016, death, Japanese pannist, Mayor Raymond Tim Kee, PCS Silver Stars Steel Orchestra, Port of Spain, Queens Park Savannah, steel pan, Trinidad and Tobago, victim blaming, Violence against women

Let me see how I am going to explain this now…

Following the Mayor of Port of Spain’s comments on the death of Japanese national Asami Nagakiya two days ago patrons met on Woodford Square in Port-of-Spain to share how his comments affected them and to protest his apparent unconscious discrimination towards women in a position of authority. I would like to do the same.

I hate to accuse people of indifference but if you are a man you cannot fully understand how the majority of women felt, which is why I was not surprised that so many men misunderstood the outrage, my own father (who is convinced it is a political ploy and the Mayor said nothing wrong) being one of them.

You can sympathise, as many men have. Thank you. Your support is appreciated. Trust me, it is! More than you know, because it means mind sets are changing.

However, there is just something that you will never fully grasp about what it literally feels to be a woman in this world. Especially a woman whose life isn’t sheltered by anyone (sheltered women tend not to get it either). For the kind of woman who takes chances and faces the world on her own terms, there are real dangers that lie await for her that just do not exist for men. And these women know this and live with the fear of it every single day.

Asami seemed to be one of those women. I am sure it was not easy and even a little terrifying for her to leave her home literally thousands of miles away and travel to another country to pursue a dream. This requires courage and faith, no matter who you are. Who knows what predators could have been waiting to dupe and take her away from the time she stepped off the plane that first day in Trinidad many years ago. I don’t need to know her to assure you as a woman that she had those fears, they were very real to her. She knew the risks of having to trust in the help of strangers and came anyway.

Now I am going to say something very controversial.

Every woman is afraid of men.

“I ain’t afraid of no one! This lioness run shit!”

Right?

Now before you triumphantly cast my opinion aside with your own ‘I Am Woman, Hear me Roar’ stance, understand this.

Saying that women fear men isn’t a statement to belittle them. It refers to a history long ingrained fear that most women are not even aware of. Much like the ingrained discrimination towards women and even misogyny that many men are not aware of. It refers to a fear that is continually perpetrated and confirmed by society’s actions towards women.

It doesn’t matter if on a scale of 1 to 10 you are a “scream and run away from even the sight of a man – 10” or a “mild fear but I’ll bust a cap in yo ass if you try something – 1” on the scale. There IS still a fear.

Test.

Women, I want you to imagine. Just a moment with me, really immerse yourself in this scenario and imagine you are walking completely alone in a car park or on a dark road somewhere. How you got there doesn’t matter. Where you are going doesn’t matter. This is a general scenario.

The point is that you have been sensing that someone or something has been following you for a while now. You feel in danger and finally you hear the footsteps coming clearly behind you and turn around quickly to see…

…… according to Mayor Tim Kee, let your imagination roll a bit.

Now be honest with what the ‘figure’ looked like, down to built, clothing and, most importantly gender. What IMMEDIATELY comes to mind? A cat? A dog? Another woman? What? What you see is a mental stereotype of your inner fears, the first thing you would expect should you be in that situation which is a common situation faced by many women around the world.

Mine would look like one of two things.

Yes, I am deathly afraid of dinosaurs, particularly velociraptors. Thank God they are extinct. Not kidding.

And the second most likely thing to come to mind which I am sure came to the minds of many women (be honest), is a shifty, crazy eyed, hungry looking man who is following me for God knows what.

Now with all of this in mind, I think it is understandable that the discovery of Miss Nagakiya’s body on Ash Wednesday and the subsequent discovery that she didn’t just have a major heart attack and die on the spot but that she was STRANGLED to death would make me and I am sure thousands of other women squirm inwardly, in the most horrible gut wrenching way.

That could have been me. I come home after dark all the time. I walk down dark roads, busy streets, take public transport at late hours ALL the time.

Does it make sense that I take these risks which to others might clearly be situations I can avoid? Because according to our Mayor Tim Kee I am responsible for my own safety.

So I should wait an extra hour (even though I am tired and know the longer I wait the harder it will be for me to get transportion) until an almost full car with at least two other women in it comes by. And I should take the long way around (and it real long eh, like a 40 minute walk longer when the short cut is two minutes!) instead of cutting through a side street to get home.

No, I should do that. It is after all my responsibility to keep myself safe.

And even moving around ‘Madea style’ isn’t a sure thing. Do guns protect women.

Or maybe I should just stay home, hide away from the dangerous world and never do anything or pursue a dream that requires me to come outside, in my life, EVER. But at least I would be safe, right? I am sure some woman who has been attacked in their own home where they thought they were safe had the same idea too.

What I want to ask the Mayor is why should these simple actions, of getting up and going to work, to school, having leisure activities, why should these things even be a risk for me? Why should I have to be afraid of being attacked alone on a dark street at all?

Is that a concern for my male counterparts because I see men taking that same short cut all the time but I wonder if they have the same fear as me or if they SHOULD be attacked will they be accused by our Mayor of being irresponsible with their safety?

Honestly, I wasn’t so much offended by the Mayor’s comments as I was hurt. Yeah, I was angry at first. The proof is all over Twitter. But later it just really upset me. Like the time I read that report about the pitbull that attacked and killed that little boy who was deaf and dumb. I couldn’t eat all day thinking of that. Imagine he never even ‘heard’ the dog coming and couldn’t speak to call for help. A truly terrifying death.

I looked at Miss Asami’s body and saw myself, saw my sister, my mother, saw every woman who I have ever cared about and felt an unsettling pain in my stomach. To know that this was all any of us would get if we were in that situation. A dismissive smile (yes, the man smiled in the report like it was actually amusing) from the authorities who are meant to help protect us. And while he may have later reflected on his comments as not being appropriate, why say it? It is very telling of some hidden beliefs he might have.

I agree with the march. Simply because (what Margaret Mead said) and also I had to really ask myself, do I really want someone with such underlying negative views on women making decisions about my safety? This is not me excusing people for not making better choices. This is me being genuinely concerned for my safety and saddened by the effort that would be put into bringing my possible demise by a madman to justice, because those responsible for bringing about that justice thought that maybe it was my fault!

The fact is that someone else’s bad intentions for you is not your fault.

Your comment could not have been more ill-timed and insensitive, Mr. Tim Kee. I would have had no problem if a circular was released a fortnight later from the mayor’s office, urging women (I am not kidding myself into believing they would say ‘everyone’. Please.) not to travel alone and beware of their surroundings while in the city and what not, because even though I find it unfair to always have to be looking over my back for the predator that might be lurking behind me, it is the reality.

But if that was your daughter Mr. Mayor, the ONLY thing you would have wanted to hear at that moment was, “I am sorry for your loss. We are doing everything to solve this. Our deepest sympathies go out to her family and friends.” Full stop. All of this outrage against you could have been avoided so easily.

One of the signs held by a participant of the march today as documented on Square Peg, Round Hole’s blog post Have a read there too!

Yes, Carnival was just around the corner. Even I find myself often shocked and confused at the display of revellers (not JUST women) during that time. But this woman’s death had nothing to do with the revellery of Carnival.

It had to do with someone who wished ill on Miss Asami. Someone who probably watched her and planned and acted on this wish (unless you also think she did something to make someone want to strangle her to death) subsequently ending her life.

And whether it was Carnival, Easter or a Christmas lime at home or whether she was dressed in a Carnival costume, or in a jeans and a t-shirt, or a burka, or with a sign around her neck saying ‘Please Don’t Hurt Me. God is watching you’, it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing if they wanted to do that to her.

And if you don’t understand that Mr. Mayor then all you are doing is continuing to assert the psychological fear that women have for men. You are proving that you don’t really understand the injustice of this woman’s death or the negative affects your comments have had as they reinforce a social stigma and belief that places half the population in danger.

Asami Nagakiya, another woman I don’t know but for whom my heart bleeds for the injustice of her death. Again, every woman thought it. ‘That could have been me.’

And that is how I feel about the comments the Mayor made. I am not even going to talk about his passive aggressive ‘sorry-not sorry’ apology that just added insult to injury. It was ridiculous. After all the love and commitment she has given to playing the steel pan, a pivotal achievement in our culture, Miss Asami Nagakiya deserved more than your assumptions.

The women of this country are waiting to trust in your judgement again. Please think of your gender and do better.

– Written by Travesaou

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