The Former Jamaican

Post script

2007-11-27T20:55:00.014+09:00

It has been about one year since I stopped making regular posts to this blog. I am not an ardent blogger, nor am I a person who is committed to forging networked relationships through the World Wide Web. I am just a woman who had two objectives. One was for that stupid cow to give up being one of the Jamaica Observer's regular columnists. The other objective was to get sucked up to by that arsehole-slash-bigotry specialist. All I had to do was to persist in writing vitriol and all my dreams were fulfilled. The only regret I have was that the gay Jamaican blogger gave up his blog right after I stopped writing here. If I could take something back, it would be that one thing. If you don't approve of "homosexuals", please go and K-ef yourself.

Every story has a twist, and mine gets funnier when the see-you-next-Tuesday slash bun-connoisseur-for-hire becomes a public servant. Literally, she has become a person who "works for you", complete with fake pearls and a ponytail. I remember sitting on the desk in my study and saying those words to myself, "Lisa works for me". A few months later, the slogan was "Vote For Lisa She Will Work For You". How delicious! I don't live in Jamaica anymore so I cannot enjoy ignoring her in her role as advocate of the chicken farmer in the New Uric Atomosphere. It would be a perfect story line for season 3 of Ugly Betty. I could never have dreamed this up.

Don't get me wrong. I grew up on a farm with goats, cows, pigeons, doves, ducks and chickens, and I drank fresh cow or goat milk every morning. Now, I enjoy my life as a barefooted housewife and mother in the countryside, surrounded by a lush forest, a lake, mountains, insects from outer space, and kilometre after kilometre of impossibly green grass.

The point I make is that we must never forget that if this woman could have achieved her objectives in life by whoring her way up a (real or imaginary) ladder of social power and public visibility (and try she did), we would never have seen her "distributing" chickens in the country. We would never have a belly laugh at her using rhetoric and lip gloss to distract the viewing public from her New Uric Plight. She would have been getting her bushy eyebrows plucked at Jencare Skin Farm at this very moment, giving indiscreet customers her look, you know, the one with a tone that says, "Who the raasclaat are you looking at, Bitch?!"

I envisioned a scenario in which the former Prime Minister assured her the Obeah Man's prophecies would come to fruition. Of course, it was an irresistible proposal, given that her own mother had taught her a little Obeah when she was growing up. Did she make sure to clarify that she would become "Member of Parliament in the administration of [the former Prime Minister]"?

Or, maybe she did some metaphysical backstabbing because she really needed the extra income and she knew that she would get a guaranteed paycheck every month regardless of whomever was in power, if she won a parliamentary seat. When times get tough, the upper cursed will take up chicken farming (or dog breeding as the case may be). No matter what I say about her choices, this woman has achieved her aims. And that is what I call a flawless victory. Congratulations. And thank goodness for Revlon foundation.

See you next Tuesday!!!

P.S. Dear Bruce, stop walking around with that juvenile grin on your face. This is not about you and the fulfillment of your quest for leadership. You've got a country to run, and at some point, you actually have to do it. You can't fake being a good leader, just as how your predecessor could not fake not being vulgar. There are a thousand jackasses out there who are willing to frig up and they would happily take your place. Remember all the things you said you wanted to change, all those years ago, when I was in high school? Well, you've got the power. Don't be a chicken.

P.P.S. Did anyone think it was funny how two guys who screwed Imani Duncan in the same calendar year were sitting at the same table, side by side?!! Notice the ring flashing on the husband's hand. The ex-boyfriend has the husband sitting on his right side, which means that he has control over the rapport between them. This is just as well, considering that the ex-boyfriend has put food on their tables. Lawks missis. I'm still a skeptic because if I know Jamaicans as well as I do, the proverbial shoe and its impeccably polished twin will self destruct in 5 seconds. Hark! I hear horgasms.

Here. Piggy. Piggy.

2007-09-07T23:23:00.000+09:00

The 2007 election results are final. So, don't quit your day job, bitch. And I say that in Dave Chappelle's tone of voice. But seriously, though, how does it feel to have gone down with the sinking ship of yet another Jamaican dictator?

Well, the "sinking ship" analogy was made by your opponent Peter Fakhourie. I thought that it was vulgar of Peter to call you a “fool, ediat, duppy, punk”. I mean, I don't think you're stupid at all, just misguided (if not desperate) in your attempt to find a new, reliable source of income that doesn't require you to go outdoors unless you really really want to.

Or, heaven forbid, you were trying to upstage your ex-husband/the mother of your ex-husband's new child by gaining a position of political power?

You must know that any action taken from a negative position has counterproductive results, because you project the emotional tone of the negative situation you're presently trying to avoid into all your future activities.

And here is the evidence of this fundamental philosophy of life, played out for the world to see.

Upstaged again, and in a much more profound manner, than the tribulations you were trying to overcome in the first place. The past 3 months have overshadowed the combined scandals of your airport fight, divorce, custody battle and subsequent steel hamburger concubineship. It's still 2007. I'm amazed that you've managed to destroy what's left of your dignity in such a short space of time.

Notice all those words that have been written about you. Check the adjectives, nouns and verbs written around your name. What are the connotations, and how can you make them go away? You'll have to perform one hundred good, press-worthy acts, and pray that bloggers out there will take notice, and write about your many good deeds. That may force these pages into oblivion.

It seems that you'll be handing out some chickens in South East St. Ann after all, and with minimum press attention. Maybe you'll finally learn that giving away something for nothing is what an altruistic spirit is supposed to embody.

This has been quite the reversal of fortune, I would say. If you hadn't jumped into this sinking ship, looking for a junior ministership to top up your monthly grooming/wardrobe expenses, you would have had a 3-month head start in finding the last man alive stupid enough to sign over his personal fortune to you in a pre-nuptial agreement.

Alright, I was reaching there, but you can hardly blame me for wanting to capitalise on your misfortunes.

You should try going offshore to further your personal and career ambitions (something tells me there's an overlap with these two). Oh, but you've thought of that already. You may have to trade being on Jamaican telly with living comfortably in obscurity.

How about a change of method? Let's remove the automatic press coverage you get thanks to your 14-year-old pageant title. Do you stand out on your own personal merits if you are some place where no-one recognises you?

If you can't think of anything, try moving to Mauritania. Wrap yourself from head to toe in black chiffon and cotton. Live in a commune with other women. Share a shower and toilet. Eat couscous and rice with your fingers. Prepare meals for men who are building real schools. Learn a language other than English. Stay there for an indefinite period. Get people to trust you, and like you for who you are. It might help you to build what us non-socialite folk call "character".

Who knows, your Prince might just find you.

Who knocked up Miss Jamaica 2006?

2007-03-24T17:59:00.000+09:00

Who's that man rubbing his crotch against Sara Lawrence's butt at the 2007 Air Jamaica Jazz and Blues Festival? These photos were published on Watever.com less than three months before the pregnancy was announced. (Is it just me, or is the sight of Sara's right breast just about to fall out of her top a bit gross?)

The ugly man with dark patches around his eyes is "John", a bank teller/band member. I was dubious at first when I got the links to these photos in my e-mail. After all, this guy could be Sara's therapist, her cousin, or even a brother. But apparently, the Jamaica Star spoke with Tina, John's girlfriend/the woman scorned.

I don't know what's worse, that Sara stooped so low as to steal Tina's ugly boyfriend (she might have done you a favour, girl) or that there may be more than one possible father of Sara's child.

"Tina, petite, beautiful, 33, but looks like 25, was involved with John, 29, bank teller by day, and member of a band by night, for about a year before she was aware that Sara was in the picture. The women were introduced and she was told by John at the time that Sara was his 'long-time friend.' The saga began last year in December. At that time, Tina was informed by John, her boyfriend at the time, that he had 'cheated on' her with Sara. He asked her to let them 'work it out' and she agreed. By the end of January, she claims she was informed by John, that the beauty queen was pregnant with his child. The nature of their 'friendship' was also made clear by photos she found on the Internet with the two together at Air Jamaica Jazz and Blues Festival."

I find it hard to believe that Sara would let John-the-bank-teller breed her. Apparently, the Jamaican public agrees. Here is what they're saying about Sara's vaginal pastimes:

At least 3 men were in Saras life in those few months of her reign, the last one who is also a big old married man, is apparantly the father. Now aint that something,

Saras baby father is a man she recently met, a married man with wife and children. Really for a role model, I find it all too disgusting!!

She was sleeping with [Micky Haughton-James] even during the contest, these prim and proper christian girls are the best!

An anonymous source (thank you very much!) sent me the links to the photos of John. It is alleged that this is the father of Sara's baby. However, from what I've been reading so far, just about any conscious, breathing, virile male could be the father. It's bizarre, don't you think?

At the time Sara announced her pregnancy, she was 12 weeks pregnant. Count back 12 weeks from March 15, 2007 and she just got pregnant a week or two before this photo was taken. Is it possible that Sara Lawrence, Miss Jamaica World, 2006, was sleeping with several men at the same time and doesn't know who her baby's father is?

What does Tatler mean by " we're giving thanks that you- know-who is not the father. I mean third strike!!!" Who is "you-know-who"?

I hope everyone is satisfied with at least one face. It would be nice to see a few others, so we can have a shortlist of candidates and maybe a competition as to who is the most eligible to pay child support for the next 21 years.

NEXT!

Sara Lawrence - Got Milked? Another Jamaican Whodunnit

2007-03-19T18:21:00.000+09:00

It seems that Sara Lawrence, Miss Jamaica World 2006 got exactly what she was looking for from the beauty pageant, albeit a little prematurely.

I wasn't there when she conceived the child, but I do know that contraceptives fail when you need them most. As a mother myself, who's had an extremely active sex life before marriage, I have to point out a few things:

1. Pregancies should be planned. This is so that the child is brought up in a loving environment by parents who are emotionally ready and financially capable of taking care of their children. Anything can go wrong in a pregnancy, and even well-prepared women end up spending a long time in post-natal care because of things that go wrong. I don't support the romantic notion of parents' struggle and hardship being good for the child in the long run. That's a load of BS.

2. Sara is an educated young woman so she should know that she doesn't need to have a baby to validate herself as a woman. Perhaps Charlotte Church's decision to announce her pregnancy (March 1, 2007) had some unexpected effects? Perhaps Sara felt that she would not receive a great deal of criticism from the public? Well, she is no Charlotte Church. Charlotte is a talented multi-millionaire, who is known for her rebellious, wild anti-role model behaviour. She was rich before she hit adolescence. She also has a career path laid out for her. Charlotte doesn't actually need a man to support her child. In fact, she doesn't need to go to school to get a good job to support a future family. Beauty pageants are about sexual competition among women. What are they competing for? A mate with the excellent combination of good looks and a never-ending stream of cash to support babies and a trophy wife's lifestyle. Obviously, her search for a good mate took priority over her own ability to support herself economically. (And, she found a virile one).

3. Age 22/23 is far too young for a woman to be having babies in our modern society. Unless Sara has a very very large trust fund, she should just enjoy delayed adulthood.

4. Sara is EXTREMELY lucky because whereas she got a baby, she might have been infected with a host of Sexually Transmitted Diseases, including HIV, instead. Why are young women so stupid?

5. I agree that she was irresponsible. Not because she got pregnant, but because of the timing and because she knew that she had obligations to fulfil. I don't think she would have planned for her pregnancy to coincide with her social and contractual obligations as a beauty queen. So, we assume that the pregnancy is not planned. If she was smart enough to put her studies at medical school on hold to fulfil the obligations of her reign, then she could have done the same for pregnancy. I don't see how winning a beauty pageant helps someone to graduate medical school. I doubt she would have had time for sex if she were busy cramming for exams.

6. I agree with Tamara Scott-Williams that the father of the child might be somewhat of a nincompoop. What kind of man allows his woman to face public criticism on her own? He doesn't need his privacy, although I'm sure that a lot of people know who he is. He needs to show that he is proud to be a father, enter the public view, and stand by her. This is one man who needs a plan. I hope he isn't "careless" or, god forbid, married.

I have always been against the Jamaican Beauty Pageant scene as pure hypocrisy when it comes to sex, especially given the stories I've heard of Lesbians going into semi-retirement to secure their crowns. Or other contestants who demand thousands of dollars from men just to go out on one date (false hair, massage, nails, dress and shoes). I don't know what Sara's level of emotional maturity is, but this incident should show us that young Jamaican women need role models who have done well for themselves over the course of a career or lifespan.

Sara's parents apparently approved of her decision to participate in the pageant. So, they shouldn't be criticising her now. As parents what they said in their public statement about her was also irresponsible. This is no time to be creating a rift with their daughter, who is emotionally vulnerable. Or, maybe they were hoping for a more well-heeled suitor? If the baby's father were Bill Gates or the Sultan of Brunei, we wouldn't have heard a peep out of Sara's parents.

This "young role model" thing just doesn't work. Do we really want more Jamaican young women to agree to have unprotected sex with their lovers because Sara Lawrence did it? "It's not that bad. She didn't get AIDS". How do you know that? I don't think that Sara's decision to have her baby is bad or good. It's just her choice.

However, she dragged the Jamaican Public into a discussion of her sex life by publishing a statement about her pregnancy on the World Wide Web. How could we not comment on the issue?

Never over Tara, the Inner City People's Princess

2006-12-17T19:21:00.000+09:00

After a long absence, Tara Abrahams-Clivio is back writing for the Jamaica Observer. I wonder if she's writing anything sensible? I would never put myself through the torture of trying to figure out what she's trying to say but I saw something that could not be ignored.

Recently, Mrs. Clivio wrote some poetry about the plight of inner city people. The title of her article should have been:

"A Vacca Foeda, on What she Thinks Life is Like in Jamaican Inner City Communities".

I wonder if she is planning to write anything else about the plight of innercity people? An epic text, detailing the grinding poverty of her compatriots. God knows they can't read or write to save themselves. Poor darlings, and they are so ambitious. The people of the inner city need Princess Tara, the Innercity People's Princess, to save them. Just one look at her pale skin will quench their thirst and satisfy their hunger. They will realise how poor and hopeless they are, and will stop wanting to leave the inner city where they don't deserve to be, but where they are anyway, sadly, because this is the only way Princess Tara can feel good about herself. I know she enjoyed her tour.

Here are some questions for you, Mrs. Clivio, to frame your epic text on the inner city:

1. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever sat down to have a talk with the 18-year-old girl who is living with her unemployed boyfriend in an inner city community, but who feels that she has no choice but to have unprotected sex with your white lawyer friend from foreign, on that day's issue of the Jamaica Gleaner, spread out on the floor of his office every evening after work so she can pay the rent? Would you offer her free coffee in your fancy uptown coffee shop? Or is it just a service you provide to potential clients who can afford it anyway?

2. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever used the facilities (bathroom, toilet, shower) in an inner city community home? No, not one in a Housing Trust housing scheme.

3. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever sat down in a poorly lit bar/restaurant in an inner city community and had yourself a lunch of fried chicken leg and white rice with ketchup gravy? Did you smell the stench of cigarrette smoke, Heinekin and rum? Did the sound of loud chatter and dominos clanging on the tables ring in your ears?

4. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever had a talented, educated young man living in the inner city make love to you, doggy style, on the bed he shares with his younger brother, with the roar of a rusted fan, the strong odor of cheap cologne, and music from Irie FM attacking your senses? Would you offer him a steak dinner if you heard his stomach growl after you rolled off the bed, with a wide grin on your face, exhausted from two back-to-back sessions of deep thrusting? It's a miracle that he has so much energy, you might think, because he's undernourished.

If you have never done any of the above things, Mrs. Clivio, you don't really know what life is like for people in the inner city. It means that when you write about the housing plight of people in the inner city, it is either out of embarrassment, or for lack of anything sensible to do with your time.

I would like to see what you write about inner city people after you've chewed and swallowed the oppressive need for a better life, and then felt it seeping out through your pores. What will you say after chronic depression, fear, shame, and low self-esteem send shockwaves of orgasms through your body?

Maybe then you will have the proper perspective.

Horsebreeding Hamburgers and a "See you Next Tuesday" of Steel

2006-08-10T13:58:00.000+09:00

This not a scandal, just a story.

I was amused to see the May-December romance between the gentleman and the young woman photographed in the press, and described as "blossoming". Seeing that I like older men myself, it should come as no surprise that I used to hang out with some close pals of his. Hang out, role-play, thorough "physical" examinations. To name a few delicious activities. Let me stop here.

Personal hygiene issues aside, the young woman was raised by a mother who studied metaphysics, and who used some of this esoteric knowledge to raise the young woman's social status. Good on you mother! It's not that the mother was money-hungry, it's just that she wanted the best for her daughter. I suggest that the rest of us dig up some of those metaphysical texts, and learn a thing or two.

Back to the young woman. It seems that metaphysical laws were not used effectively, or else she would have been able to keep her husband and child, and her dignity.

The cash prize must have run out a long time ago, and alimony payments may not be enough so, if her Beauty is the only marketable skill she can use to secure her future, and to care for her child, she should work hard to get her relationship legally endorsed.

I am saying this because even though I was in the abovementioned hook-ups for fun, they did offer to marry me within six months after we started fucking. Apparently, my blatant screwing around and my relative social "invisibility" didn't disqualify me for a ring. They were okay with it because, they said, they were too old to satisfy my monster libido anyway. I felt free enough to say "no" because my survivability didn't depend on marrying a man with loads of cash and an easily recognised name.

Given that I've "gone there" before, I'm offering the young woman some advice:

You've (reportedly) been with the gentleman since late 2005. For someone of your visibility, and his status, make sure that he is not still "romancing" you on the day of your first anniversary. You should be happily married. Older men don't "date" younger women. They fuck them, and then boast about it to their close friends, who clap them on the back with big chuckles, and then compare notes about the younger women they are also fucking. (Your toes would curl at what has been discussed in my presence).

You are a mother, so consider that if you are attached to someone who is old enough to be your father, then he knows that he is obliged to protect your highly public image and the welfare of your child by offering to marry you. It's a question of honour and respect for you as a person. I didn't mention "love" because I know that you're too practical for that.

He is aware of how his peers and your peers will see him, and you, and if by the end of 2006, you are not married, you should know that he doesn't hold you in high regard. I hope you are aware that no-one in Jamaica is as hypnotised by your physical beauty as you may think. You're not THAT pretty, and anyhow, being pretty can't immunise you from character assassination.

Every woman of class knows that the courtship is only legitimised by the announcement of an engagement. If you're going to show off your relationship to the public, it should be in reverse. You appear married, and then everyone learns about how you two hooked-up. No-one wants to see your relationships unfold in public. It's exhausting. Your marriage was exhausting, and the divorce was exhausting. We're forced to look at you in relation to "nothing special", and that's exhausting too.

As a self-styled expert in communication, you should know that attention to yourself is bad news for your clients, who might want discretion. Therefore, your professional competence is on display 24/7, in all aspects of your life. Look, you have already been blasted by people in Jamaica (Google yourself and your boyfriend in the same search string) who think that you are either:

(i) a well-dressed ornament,
(ii) a desperate and insecure old maid, or
(iii) a prostitute.

Now, if you can't manage your public image regarding your private affairs, how do you do your job? Potential clients will think your job is a joke when they read these opinions of you. As opposed to someone like Shaggy's Girl, whom readers are reluctant to recognise as being vile, ruthless, and whorish. There are people who, having read posts on my blog, are convinced that I've fabricated stories about my whorish behaviour to attack others. Take this as an example of how a Professional Communicator does her work.

As I said before, I do not have a moral position on prostitution, but I do believe that your public image is extremely important to you, and you would prefer for people to think that butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. That you're unapproachable.

For the record, prostitutes are the most guarded, and least approachable people on earth. This is because no-one dares to come near without displaying the proper credentials and an undertaking to PAY UP.

It's kind of sad that after entering the public eye so many years ago with such promise, that this young woman would sell herself short like this. I am really disappointed, and in a way, I feel I must take back some of the things I have said about her before.

I said that her life would be full of guarantees and promise, but now I realise that her position is precarious because of the artificial and transient pathway to success that she herself has taken. I bet she wishes she had stayed with that humble, ordinary nobody guy who was besotted with her. A true woman of class knows that she builds an enduring Empire from scratch, and chooses her partner wisely.

I pray that her acting classes in America have been put to good use in showing a brave face when the Horsebreeding Hamburger mounts her "See you Next Tuesday", one more time, in the usual manner. Ahh, the luxuries that Steel can afford a man in his twilight years.

At the end of the day, let this example teach us that women are worth more than our bodies. Let this post serve as congratulations to all the men who refuse to be manipulated by our bodies, but who are willing to embrace our Mind in love.

Spoilt pigs make tastier pork

2006-01-11T17:29:00.000+09:00

I found the answer to the question: "What will 2006 bring?"

The answer is: "Moving forward".

I got my wishes for 2005. Two of them relate to my purposes for writing this blog.

The third wish is the one I'll talk about here.

It has to do with the last piece of advice I received before I left Jamaica.

It was the statement that has more or less crippled me for the better part of a decade:

"If I introduced you to the people who played in my bridge club, they would be shocked to hear you speak, as a dark-skinned person. They have no concept that a black person can speak English".

Was this bullshit, or did I spend 20+ years living and studying in Jamaica only to be told that I had just hit my ceiling? Not a day passes when I don't remember this statement, which was meant as a 'compliment'.

I'm not angry with myself anymore for listening to that bigoted gatekeeping asshole. Now I think, "does it matter?" Let him keep it.

Of course, I've screamed at quite a few people on this blog on the way to drawing that conclusion.

I thought that it would be useless writing about perceived injustices in our society because writing wouldn't help them to repair. I've seen some of the subtle changes, though. The changes were made in my mind, in a perspective I never thought I would have ever achieved.

I've seen childhood heroes crash and burn, and social outcasts step out into the limelight. But I do not wish to keep on blogging a bonfire about the fallen heroes and heroines.

I believe that I've made my point with this blog, which is that our society has manufactured "mentors" for us. "Mentors" represent ideals that each of us supposedly can never reach. No matter who we are, our society has created a symbol of perfection for us that we can never attain.

Isn't it time to vandalise the social order? It's not working for us. Is now a good time to take a sledgehammer to the wall of falsehoods that have separated us from ourselves?

This is not necessarily me giving up blogging. After my last two-year break, I came back feistier than when I first started. Will I come back? And why?

I realised that I needed a shift_ in_my_perception. I got that, and now I'm using it as a tool for mapping a different version of my life. Life as if...

Closing doors is something I've always been too good at doing. This time, I'm opening the door. The posts archived on this blog represent the process of my perception shift.

Blessings, peace and love be unto everyone.

Too late for antifreeze, Jesu

2006-01-08T22:55:00.000+09:00

Alright...it's 2006. Tonight I stood dazed in my living room, shivering from the cold. Around my feet were chunks of ice that I tracked from the front door, and which were also falling off my trousers.

I channel-hopped for a few seconds and cursed at the fact that there was nothing on telly. Out of nowhere, the notion that "the world is still spinning", popped into my head. I acknowledged the thought with a mixture of nonchalance and trepidation. I decided that music would be a better choice. I went with the power of Snap!, and muted the TV so the Berlin Philarmonic Orchestra looked like they were playing "Rhythm is a Dancer".

I'm rambling. Hypothermia + Antihistamines do that.

To my recollection, this is the first year that I didn't prepare a set of resolutions. When I left university, I had mapped my entire life up until the time I would turn 26. Somehow, I expected (or vaguely hoped) that the universe would implode on itself after I'd worked through my "list of things to do before I turn 30".

When I was going to church an eternity ago, they promised that the world was going to end soon. The plan didn't work, so I made some new wishes. Those came true. This was too easy.

The universe still hasn't imploded, and I'm in quite a pickle.

Care Less

2006-01-04T10:15:00.000+09:00

The year 2005 has drawn to a close. I'd love to do a year in review, but I'm relaxing, and taking a break from what has been a very distracting hobby in 2005.

To ring in the New Year, I travelled half-way around the world to attend one of the largest street parties on the planet. Alone. As usual.

I'm not running out of posts...I'm just in an extended ragdoll pose, and getting out of my head for a while. I'm happy to report that nothing has happened. I have not got into trouble, have not had an adventure, and I haven't attended any of the usual parties.

In unrelated news, I saw L two days ago, as I was walking back to my hotel. He gave me the double-, triple-, fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-take as I sauntered past him.

I stared right at him as he stopped in his tracks. My eyes were obscured by sunglasses so he wasn't sure if it was really me. (All black women look alike, right?). We're not on speaking terms, so there is no way for him to know that I would be visiting his neck of the woods again. Whatever.

L is the man who deluded himself that we were having an affair, and then tried to blame it on me when his partner found out.

Happy New Year, everyone.

P.S. My deepest thanks to MadBull for comparing me to two of my role models: Dr. Carolyn Cooper (yes, she's sexy) and Wilmott Perkins. I would like to add quickly that I am nowhere near the calibre of these two remarkable people.

Being followed

2005-12-29T21:11:00.000+09:00

Stalkers have always featured somewhere in the story of my life. When I talk about these things, people either think I'm blowing things out of proportion or they think that I invited it.
I wonder why it is that people are so insensitive or blind to stalking. It is a form of violence against women, and victims don't usually get support until something terrible happens.

Chapter 1
The first one was the apprentice to a well-known Jamaican sculptor/painter who was a friend of my family's. Apparently, my "uncle" was sent copies of my school photo when I graduated 5th form. I was only 16, and I remember gettting a phonecall from some mumbling, drooling cretin who said that looking at my photo gave him an erection. Would I be kind enough to visit his house so that he could deflower me? He loved me, he said. I was still a virgin, and was not at all interested in boys, so that was out of the question. He followed me everywhere, even to the mall. When I ignored him, he would shout "SG, yuh look like yuh have HIV, how yuh so mawga?".

Not long after that phonecall, I was on my way home one afternoon. My stalker put out his hand to grab my breast. Luckily, I have small breasts, so he had to search for where to grope. As he stretched out his hand, he said "SG, let me feel your goodness". I evaded him and continued on home.

Two years later, he turned up at my house, and told me that he had been watching me for days. I ran inside, crying, and called my uncle to complain. Why did I call my uncle? My mother thought it was "cool" that guys were being attentive. I let her know that I felt uncomfortable with that kind of attention and she said "why don't you stand up to him, you can't let some boy come to your house and frighten you". Huh? Wasn't my mother supposed to be my defender?

Shortly after that, my boyfriend and I were sitting in the food court at the Sovereign Centre enjoying the Roti Bazaar's curry nan before a movie. My stalker stood on the second floor, in front of Sophia Max Brown's shop (or was it Rejuvination?) and shouted something at me. For the life of me, I can't remember what he said. My boyfriend sat there, saying nothing.

Chapter 2
The second was the boyfriend from chapter one. He was my first boyfriend. Since I was a virgin when we met, he was obsessed with keeping me "loyal" to him, and he was extremely possessive. One year after the Sovereign Centre incident, we broke up because he punched me in the face after I received a phonecall from one of my male colleagues at work. He knew who it was because we were in my living room, and he grabbed my home telephone when it rang, to find out who it was. I asked him to leave and that's when the battering started.

He couldn't understand why I couldn't see him anymore.

He followed me around for a year, and every night, he would throw rocks at my bedroom window, which was on the second floor of my house. My gates had to be locked, so he couldn't get in, and at one point I remember being escorted home by three burly policemen with shotguns. They had spoken to him about his behaviour, but that only made matters worse. I had the police station on speed dial, and they would get to my house within 3 minutes if I called. He watched my house every day during that time, followed me to UWI campus, and started a fight with my boyfriend over our new relationship.

He also called my office and spoke with the manager to tell her about all the sexual things we did, and how he had been so supportive and kind to me. He did the same thing with my guardians, telling them that I had fucked him on the living room floor, in the kitchen, and even in the washroom. They didn't believe him, and they laughed when he told them that I had been pregnant by him. Twice.

It stopped after I visited his mother and had a talk with her. She told me that he had 2.5 children and had set up house in Stony Hill with the mother of his children. That's odd. He was supposed to be seeing me exclusively, so why would he get angry about cheating if he was doing that? If he had 2.5 children, it meant that he had to have been screwing that woman while we were "dating". So much for naivite.

Chapter 3
The third one I encountered a few years ago. It might have started when some strange guy comes up to me and says, "I want to take nude pictures of you. I'll pay you $ 2000 for each shot." I shrugged and said no, and walked back home, thinking that he was just another porno video producer who was scouting for new talent. Whatever.

I thought nothing of the incident until a few days later when he called my house. He said he had seen nude photos of me on the web, and would show them to my male colleagues if I didn't let him into my apartment. He said he wanted sex, and that he was standing just outside my apartment.

I decided to ask him how he came to be obsessed with me. He told me that he had been parked at my fitness club two weeks before and noticed that I was working out there. He then returned every evening at the same time to see if I would go back. When he realised where I lived, he followed me to my office one morning.

I'm not sure why I continued to talk with him, but I thought that if I treated him like a beast, he would feel that he had power over me. So, I figured that if I satisfied his curiousity to some degree, he would not be so intensely obsessed. I found out that he was an unmarried truck driver in his late 30s. He just wanted to get to know me. He was sterile and couldn't have children, so he was not "marriage material". He still lived with his mother.

Then it was time for him to hang up.

I called my boyfriend, who was out of town, right after that incident. He responded two days later to let me know that he didn't respond sooner because he thought I had had a fight with a guy I was fucking behind his back. That was the end of our relationship. He reminded me of my first boyfriend and the first stalker.

The next afternoon, I told the police everything that happened, and I told them that I talked to him because I wanted to control the situation. For better or worse, I had the same "rights" as an extraterrestrial. I gave them the tape from my answering machine, they started an investigation.

The day after that, my stalker left a new message on my answering machine saying that he was sorry for being an asshole and that he wanted to make things right. To be friends. I don't know if he came back to visit because I had already moved into a friend's apartment.

The end

Cyberculture

2005-12-15T19:59:00.000+09:00

cy·ber·cul·ture Pronunciation (sbr-klchr) n. The culture arising from the use of computer networks, as for communication, entertainment, work, and business.

I've written before that Jamaica doesn't have a cyberculture. It is my belief that within Jamaica's borders, access to information infrastructure will be confined to a specific demographic that can afford to pay the fees charged by Cable and Wireless. Naturally, the voices coming out of Jamaica will be confined to a single social group. This may or may not be a good thing.

Telephony services in Jamaica are expensive for people who earn a relatively low income and who cannot supplement their incomes with remittances from overseas. This is the reality, that Jamaica is not a wealthy nation.

So it's understandable when people who live in Jamaica and can afford to access the internet on a regular basis feel that they have "arrived", for want of a better word. Their relative position to the rest of the population may give them a (distorted) sense of entitlement.

Jamaica's population is estimated at 2,731,832 (July 2005 est.) , and statistics from 2002 say that about 600,000 people there are using the internet.

Take a relative of mine for example. I was enjoying a lazy month outside of my country of residence when she sent me a missive about enjoying vacations. Why? Two months earlier, I had said I was going to do x project in y country. I wasn't sure what her problem was, given that I was a grown woman. But later, I realised that the root of this issue was sibling rivalry. Her sister, who was living in the same house, wasn't helping to pay internet fees and didn't own her own computer. My relative wanted to show that she could quarrel with me even though I was far away.

What do you call it when a person assumes authority and attempts to influence others? The woman with the computer workstation at UWI is the closest I've come to describing that attitude.

But, I'll get to my point.

I'll briefly discuss my understanding of "formal authority in cyberspace". First, Internet architecture is inherently non-centralised, so no single authority 'runs' the Internet. Therefore, there is a sense of "anarchy" that is associated with the internet. This is used in a political sense to signal the absence of direct or coercive authority. I will define the verb coerce as "causing to do through pressure by moral or intellectual means". As a recent example, Tobi coerces users all the time on the Jamaica Star Forum because she is it's moderator.

John Perry Barlow claims that the Internet is inherently a lawless 'electronic frontier' such that existing authority based on nation-states is undermined by the Internet. For me, this means that even cultural authority can be undermined. No one has the "right" to represent a particular culture or to impose one sociocultural perspective on an audience that has no reference point to begin with.

Who has the "right" to represent Jamaican culture? Rather, who has the right to approve or disapprove of what is said about our culture? The way I see it, people in the wide world will make up their own minds about what Jamaica means to them. Most people I know use music to relate to Jamaican culture. They study the lyrics, buy the CDs and go to the concerts. Others use Rastafarianism as their reference points. They read, they discuss their impressions and they ask further questions. These things are not necessarily Jamaican culture, but are rather products of it.

With the vague execption of people who advocate gay rights and ban our singers from visiting their countries, no-one has been appointed regulator of the "message" that is Jamaican culture.

I think that a lot more has to be done so that we can understand the belief systems that give birth to our cultural products.

Finally, an opinion isn't valid just because we agree with it, and we can't exclude an opinion just because it's not what we want to hear.

Every story comes together to give a complete picture, and that's just the way it should be.

My Tropic Escape: Survival of the Most Visible

2005-12-14T18:48:00.000+09:00

The article entitled "On my own" is misleading and so is the blurb that "at age 28, armed with loads of innovative ideas and free of the responsibilities associated with children, [Imani Duncan] decided to take the risk and follow her dream."

My Tropic Escape signs off its introduction as:

One Love,
Imani Duncan & Peter Bunting
Co-creators of My Tropic Escape

Innovation is relative, because when you think of it, My Tropic Escape is a tour company. Using adjectives like "luxury" and "adventure" doesn't make it more than what it really is. It's just as silly as calling a flight attendant a "international hospitality consultant", for example. Where is the risk in asking your lover to lend you his support in starting up a business in Jamaica's thriving tourism sector?

I asked myself, is a person truly a wealth creator if the co-creator of her business is her former lover?

Wealth is created through several means.

Natural resources can be harvested and sold to those who want them.
Material can be changed into something more valuable through proper application of knowledge, skill, labor and equipment.
Better/smarter production methods also create additional wealth by allowing faster creation of wealth.
Ideas create additional wealth by allowing it to be created faster or with new methods.

The last definition in the above list makes me think that it's Peter Bunting who is the wealth creator, and not Imani. Peter might have imagined that it would be profitable to use Imani's ideas as "new methods" of creating additional wealth for himself.

I thought it looked strange when one minute, Imani is lovey-dovey and doing ski trips with Peter and less than a year later, is engaged to be married to Basil Waite. The Jamaica Observer's Tatler blamed Peter for the breakup, and painted him out to be the loser, but that was a hasty judgement. I think that he is an experienced businessman who has made effective use of his left brain.

And I'm saying that the press has made this middle-class girl look more ambitious than she really is. I was proud of her a few years ago when I read about her tireless efforts to get Global Justice off the ground. She was right there when it all began, so I feel that it's an anticlimax when this woman with a master's degree from Harvard University comes back to Jamaica and starts a tour company that's funded by her wealthy ex-boyfriend.

I also question her role as wealth creator because it occurs to me that her Escape Artists (borrowed term) and members of the local communities will have to serve up themselves to receive tourist dollars. How does servitude contribute to wealth? Who is becoming wealthy?

It seems to me that the tourists are the wealthy ones because they can order up anything they like. For a reasonable cost, they can enjoy the holiday of their dreams, hundreds of people bending over backwards so they can really have fun.

One woman (not a Jamaican) told me recently that she had seen an advertisement on TV for the Jamaica Tourist Board. She wanted to know where she would stay during her vacation, since everyone in Jamaica lived in the woods, under the shade of trees, eating only fresh fruit. How would she dry her hair after shampooing in the river? This was a university educated woman was in her late 20's. Anyone who has lived outside of Jamaica for a considerable period of time should have had this stranger-than-fiction experience.

I'm not bothered by Imani's ex-boyfriend's sponsorship. What bothers me about this whole thing is the fact that the press has named her a wealth creator. The term doesn't really have any meaning because none of the people who are cooking cheap lunches or pointing fingers "over there" can get rich doing just that. So, who, I ask again, is getting all this wealth?

What bothers me is that the Observer article has implied that she is a role model for young women who want to strike out on their own. How can Imani truly spread the message of wealth creation in Jamaica when she had a rich boyfriend to begin with? If I were a member of the reading public who was reading this article, I would assume that I am to look to this beautiful, educated woman for mentorship. After finding out that she had help from a special friend, I would think that it is impossible for me to make it on my own. I would then decide to make my ultimate goal in life "finding a rich man" to sponsor my ambitions.

Unfortunately, many women in Jamaica have adopted this mindset. It is one of the side effects of our culture of beauty pageantism. Many talented women enter these contests because they feel that their true goals in life will be otherwise compromised. In Jamaica, if you don't live in the right neighbourhood, or if you weren't born in the right family, you are forced to make up for it with maximum exposure. What better way to do so than to invite yourself to the coming out party of the Jamaican middle class?

The real reason that young women enter beauty pageants is to ensure their own survival. To be invisible, or out of the media spotlight in Jamaica, is a very bad thing, especially when you need a boyfriend with lots of cash.

Stories etched in the snow

2005-12-14T12:22:00.000+09:00

Snow tracks tell interesting stories. Whenever I open my front door in the morning, I can tell if somone walked by my house earlier. The large bootprints belong to the men who check every morning to see if there is snow to be removed. The small, delicate tracks with triangular toes belong to a woman who had come to visit me unannounced (I still don't know who it is). I can see the tyre tracks of the the smallor large vehicles that pass by. I've found that my favourite sneakers have carved a New Balance logo in white.

Exactly one year ago, I woke up to find some curious little prints leading from my front door to my car. Earlier, I was told that there were foxes living in the forest in which my house is nestled. I hadn't seen any foxes myself, so I wasn't scared at the idea. In this country, it's illegal to kill, feed or otherwise attempt to tame wild animals.

Since then, they trimmed the trees in the forest, because storms had weakened the trunks of many of the trees over the years. I now have a midi-forest, and I was sad, but I was assured that it was for my own safety and protection.

This morning I woke up and saw some prints under my window. Fox paw prints? Then I noticed that the ice was melting and that the icicles were dripping onto the bed of snow below the eaves of my roof. I traced the the small holes in the snow to the landing that separated my house from the street.

If the prints I saw last year were melted icicles, then what made those indentations that I saw under my car?

Conservative blogging

2005-12-14T07:31:00.000+09:00

I got slightly annoyed yesterday when I was reading some "blogging advice" from the web's famous bloggers. Notably, most of them are from the US, a culture with an interesting study in contrasts.

Most talk a good conservative game, but their behaviour doesn't match up. For example, it's not okay to talk about your sex life on your blog, but it's perfectly okay for married men to solicit sexual services online, or for couples to leave copies of Forum or Playboy around the house when they have young kids.

I don't see anyone breathing down their necks. Probably I should make a list for them, to balance accounts.

Okay, so now we have to follow rules about blogging? Not that I intend to become dooced like Heather Armstrong, but there really is no fun in writing about bland topics like what someone said about what someone else said regarding what someone else said about US politics on someone else's news blog.

I went down the entire list of mandates before rolling my eyes. I mean, I don't want to have my hobby writing regulated. That's way too much pressure, to come up with the "right" topics, and then it becomes a job. I have a job, and that is heavily regulated. I have hobbies that are heavily regulated. I just need some chaos to restore the balance, or I'll fucking implode.

Oh, I'm not supposed to use swear words or else it will be a turn-off.

Is it necessary to write to become a famous blogger? There are enough websites for everyone, and there are many famous bloggers, so I think it's perfectly okay for me not to desire that attention. That said, I'm not good at following advice unless I really need it.

Oh, and this whiny post is also on the list of things NOT to do.

Word!!

The trouble with turning left

2005-12-13T12:02:00.000+09:00

I live in a left-driving country.

I was fuming the other day because I noticed that some drivers would waste time when turning left. Left turns are textbook, right? Safety checks, indicate, slow down and turn. Multi-tasking.

I notice that a lot of people tend to indicate just as they decide to turn into the parking lot of an establishment such as the mall, supermarket or restaurant. I see the car swerve towards the pavement, to prevent bikers from sneaking past in the open space. Then the brakes go on suddenly, and everyone else has to stop while this person decides when to turn. Imagine going from 60 kph to zero at a moment's notice. Then imagine that you're behind me. What the hell is going on?

This person's stalling may last 5 seconds or less, but when someone fails to do their safety check before turning, it makes everyone else uncertain. Should we pass this person, or wait. Has the car stalled, or will it stop here? These decisions take more time. Going back to 60 kph from a stop also takes a few seconds, but it's okay if you're directly behind the left-turning time waster. What's worse is, you speed up, and then the traffic light goes red. Bleeding buggery hell!!!

It is especially annoying when there are no pedestrians on the pavement, and no cars leaving the parking lot, but this time wasting left turner is stopped at an odd angle in the lane of oncoming traffic. It's a main road people! You aren't the only ones with things to do!

Is it okay to inconvenience others just because we are inefficient?

Maybe they're wasting time, or maybe I'm impatient. Maybe I live in a country with closed-minded people who don't care about the people who they influence with their actions.

Fact is, safety checks should come first so that when you turn left, you can turn decisively and with confidence.

Do what needs to be done: Blogging for a purpose?

2005-12-11T19:29:00.000+09:00

I had a nightmare about climbing today. I had a fight with my archenemy (a woman). She was very powerful, and could not be hurt even though I was bashing her neck with a piece of wood. I decided to run away from her and ended up scaling a Greek statue that had been abandoned and run over by weeds. I didn't realise what it was until I found myself hugging its nose, and running my hand over its eyes. The statue was blocking the entrance to one of my favourite temples.

Don't know what the dream means, but I was just talking with a friend of mine about this blogging business, and decided to resurrect a post I had been tweaking for a week.

This is who I am. I thought about a lot of the rants I've posted here, and I realise that many of them were vengeful. Especially November. I was on a roll! I thought about those issues again, and I asked myself, "does my blog have to be squeaky clean?"

Revenge is the act of giving punishment or demanding atonement for a wrong. It is the desire to retaliate against a person or group in response to perceived wrongdoing. Although revenge may superficially resemble the concept of making things equal, revenge usually has a more injurious than constructive goal. It involves the vengeful wish to make the other person experience what one went through or otherwise to suffer severely.

I thought about those definitions, and realise that this was not the unilateral purpose of my rants. I started blogging in August, 2003, when I was being bullied by my boss and I really hated myself. Writing what I felt about other persons didn't make me feel better, and it didn't eradicate my issues either. I guess that bringing them to the surface and re-reading my thoughts made me realise just how insignificant some things are.

Revenge is personal and at times motivated by wounded honor, or anger. The emotional component of seeking revenge often leaves the seeker frustrated, unfulfilled, and angrier still. This may have been true for me but I'm not angry or unfulfilled at the moment. I wrote about that epiphany last month when I had my final dive/climb for 2005. Doesn't mean I will be less caustic, though.

As for my platform, or my agenda, I don't need one. I write what I write.

Wood, water, and missed opportunities

2005-12-04T11:37:00.000+09:00

Jamaica is not such a "small" country, when we think of the impact that Jamaican people have had on the world stage. Academia, tourism, literature, music, fashion and sports. Jamaica is a nation with presence.

Unfortunately, though we have a big impact, we are still so small-minded that we missed out on the opportunities that are presented for further growth as a nation. I'm not talking about World Bank handouts. I'm talking about getting people to buy our cultural products. I made reference to this issue when McDonald's pulled out of Jamaica.

Let's take fashion models, for instance. Quite a few of the popular ones are from Jamaica. They model for Bill Blass, Emanuel Ungaro, Gucci and even Victoria's Secret. So, how come we don't have all the designers and press agents come to Jamaica and spend their money here? Yes, we have a Caribbean Fashion week, but that's not the same thing. What's the point of paying highly visible models to appear on the runway just because they're Jamaican? These girls were chosen because they could sell clothes. They fit a certain designer's image. The investment backfires because the model gets rich, and people don't buy the local designer's clothes.

Now, at the risk of sounding like some of the contributors to the Jamaica Star Forum, I would like to add my own twig of thyme to this "Miss Jamaica World Pageant" soup.

Within our culture, I believe there is a syndrome that I'll call "BEAUTY PAGEANTISM".

Beauty Pageantism works like this. Some of the working class people of a post-colonial nation are periodically misdirected from pressing social, political and economic issues by focussing their attention on the mediocre bodies of a few selected women from the local population.

Here's a contrast. Our strength and economic viability as a region will be tested when we host the World Cup of Cricket in 2007. There have been quite a number of difficulties with managing and organising the event, but we keep saying that our girl will win in China. Star Forum Moderator Tobi, for example, was very disappointed that all her trumpetting and coercion has come to zero. Here is what she said after returning from an overseas trip and realising that no-one cared:

folks... no one really cares about Miss World or Jamaicas participation it would seem, I guess everyone just struggling & too busy hustling or trying to stay 'safe'.

Gugu Simelane notes that "beauty pageants are the most eagerly-awaited events of the entertainment year in small countries like Swaziland...because we are poor, we don't have many extravaganzas. These are glamorous functions." No offence to small, poor countries, but is this where we are?

Since I've left Jamaica, I've met many people who have no idea where this country is, or who think that everyone here has dark skin. I explain that if you want to find a Jamaican, you have to listen for the accent or the belly laughs because we're such a diverse culture. For about 2 years, I would show photos of Jamaican women in different contexts to the people who are interested in our culture. Well, the full-bodied women on the post cards, who are washing their clothes by the river, get very good reactions: "hmm...nice!" But, when I show photos of haute couture models and the women who enter our local beauty pageants, I get puzzled looks. "What?! They're cute?!" I felt self-conscious about my audience's lack of enthusiam, so I didn't bother to ask, but I can understand why Tobi felt that people were rather nonchalant about Jamaica's participation.

It seems that as a nation, we cannot feel as if we're on the map unless the majority of 2.3 billion people say that Jamaican women are beautiful and sexy as hell. Can't you see? We're already on the map, and beauty pageants aren't that big a deal. It's just entertainment.

Watch the reaction to beauty pageants in nations with thriving economies. A victory like that would get swallowed up in a few hours.

I don't think it makes sense for us to pin our nation's future on one individual who is only trying to raise her social capital at the expense of our time and attention.

"I see this competition as a way of improving self", says Terri-Karelle Griffith. Peta-Gaye Walker chimes in with, "this will help to improve my social skills, confidence and etiquette. Besides being able to put the Miss Jamaica on my resume, it gives me an opportunity to meet people that I probably wouldn't have the opportunity to meet."

Most young women enter beauty pageants for the same reason that I dive off clifftops: because they want to boost their egos. I don't see a "national pride" agenda here.

Misguided Issues about Bad women

2005-12-01T17:46:00.000+09:00

I'm so bored with Jamaican men who pontificate about women who are "loose" and "bad". Yeah, yeah. This is a well-chewed argument by the men in our society who are desperate to control women's sexuality.

I don't believe that a Jamaican man can stay faithful to his wife/girlfriend, physically or emotionally. Jamaican men will swear on their mother's grave that they are monogamous, even while they're caught in the act. If possible, they lie to the other women, to get them in bed or tell them up front that "look, you are going to be my outside woman, zeen?"

One of my close friends says that he's monogamous, yet he is having sex with three women at the same time. He thinks he's monogamous because the sexual encounters are not happening simultaneously. So many stories, so little space.

Tony Robinson is misguided in the belief that he is an expert on "bad girls" and their emotional needs. Men speaking about women's issues and polarising women such that they can't win. Male domination rears it's ignorant head. I can't think of a developed society in which such a concept makes sense. Tony's moniker "Daddy Oh" is befitting of someone who is out of touch with the times. Here is some of what he wrote:

The life of the bad girl isn't what it's cut out to be, as even though they're sought after, desired by men, yearned after, it's not usually for a long-term relationship. But bad girls need love too. The irony is, men will say that they want a bad girl, and they really do, but the usual phrase is, "Hey man, only for a good time, remember, some you settle down with and some you just lick and run". Now that's so sad.

So even though they may look hot and sexy, healthy body and lusty, it's often a sad, lonely life for a bad girl. "I got what you want, you got what I need, I'll be your baby, come and spend it on me, sad girls, bad girls."

Really? I think the so-called bad girl should be the one to discuss her own experiences with the public. She should be the one to talk about her own emotional issues, if she has any.

It's ignorant to insinuate that having a partner in one's life is a good thing. Having a good partner is a good thing, but the concept that "any man will do" is one of the reasons that many Jamaican women are getting shafted in love.

Let's consider women who don't want to have a man encroaching on their physical and emotional space. Does she have a category? Rather, should we place her in category, or is she to be excluded from our society because she does not buy into the male domination dogma? Women have chosen other options for how to live their own lives. To a large extent, sex is now a lifestyle choice, and not an obligation.

Why does a man have to factor in at every turn?

Tony is misguided if he thinks that "long-term relationship" = "woman's happiness". Come on, there is so much a woman can do now to have a fulfilling life. Before, we had to trade our bodies just so we could eat. Having children was our task in life. After that, we were dispensible. We could die, and no-one would write about us. Now we can have choices for personal fulfilment. It is no longer a truism that all little girls want to be someone's wife when they grow up. It is no longer necessary for this to be the goal in a woman's life.

I also disagree with this statement of his:

I spoke to some good girls who were lamenting the fact that they had no men, while others had men but the men seemed bored with them, had lost interest, had no passion for them.

What, now good girls can't be good in bed? Rubbish. Sexual intercourse is not just a physical activity. It's a social skill. It's a marketing tool. Most people even consider it a form of entertainment.

I know of women who've been monogamous and sexually adventurous with their husbands. There are other women who market their sexual attractiveness in local beauty pageants so they can get the edge on finding wealthy husbands. Many Jamaican men pay to get "serviced" at massage parlours every day even though they have wives and girlfriends at home.

The way I see it, a woman who wants to shag a guy she just met because she likes him should go ahead and do it. She isn't trying to get money or status out of the exchange, and she's freely sharing her body. If the man wants it too, it's not fair that the woman alone should receive negative judgement.

When I consider a woman's physiology, it's difficult to think of a vagina as being offensive. It's a very discreetly positioned organ. Unless he's a virgin, Tony should know that it is physiologically impossible for to look at the vagina and penetrate it at the same time. In pornographic film, penetration is the highlight of every scene. Why? It's not something that the man can see when he's having intercourse, so he might watch porn because he's interested in knowing what's happening.

Tony is pontificating about one set of outdated rules while the women he's talking about are playing a completely different game.

More time, Daddy Oh!

Browning = Jamaican Shadeism

2005-11-29T16:25:00.000+09:00

Found this column in the Teenage section of the Jamaica Observer. I'm not going to say that it's hard to believe that people are still talking this kind of crap, because it isn't hard to believe. However, I know that Jamaican men are capable of appreciating black women. So, I wonder what the hell is going on?

Pssst... Browning
By Sherilla Gordon, Deputy Quarterly Editor UTech
Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Most young Jamaicans have heard the phrase "Pssst... browning" at some point in time and probably not payed much attention to it. But this one phrase has so many underlying implications, meanings and connotations that if you sit and think about it your head might spin.

Used to refer to women of light brown complexion, from the frequency of its usage, you'd get the impression that only 'brown' women are desired in Jamaica and that females of dark complexion might as well be wiped off the island.

I can recall a man saying to me one day, "You look good for a black girl." I didn't know whether to say thank you or to knock him out then and there. But fortunately for him I held my composure and gracefully responded, "Thank you." I'm not sure about anyone else, but this browning craze has me puzzled.

In a country as "mixed" as ours, complexion really shouldn't matter, but obviously this is not the case. What exactly is wrong with women of dark complexion? Why are they regarded as being lesser than women of lighter complexion?

Instead of separating women and men by complexion, how about looking past what is on the outside and recognising that true worth and quality are found on the inside.

ménage à trois

2005-11-27T18:16:00.000+09:00

The story of a bored husband looking to spice up his sex life.

Cast
Finnish seaman
Finnish seaman's Russian bride
Shaggy's Girl

Set locations
House "warming" party at hillside mansion of a close friend
Finnish seaman's home

Plot Summary
21.00 I was sitting down with a glass of coca cola, and the Russian bride falls, face down, into my lap. I'm sort of surprised because I don't even know her but she cops a feel of my right breast with her left hand. I return the favour by pulling her shirt all the way up her back to reveal a large tattoo on the small of her back. (The hostess of the party is filming the whole incident). Before this, the bride and the seaman were swallowing each other's tongues to show everyone how mad they were about each other. We had descriptions of their sex life, too. It didn't stop there, the bride went on to give her best interpretation of Elephant Man's "Jook Gal", which only revealed that she had no ass and no circular rotation through her hips. Major turn off.

22.00 The seaman says that he's too drunk to drive home, so I offer them a lift. As we were warming up in the car, the seaman says I should come over to their house to taste Russian food that his wife had prepared. I wasn't sure where this was heading (I have a dirty mind), so I asked the Russian bride what she thought, and she said it was fine. We agreed that I would just stay for a little bit.

00.00 The seaman wanted to know about my most fulfilling sexual experience, and I told him that is was with one of his countrymen. He's shocked. Finnish men are good in bed?! He asked for details: What did he do? How did he do it? I didn't give details, but I drew some comparisons with my former Jamaican lovers so he could get the big picture.

00:30 I say it's time to go home. Russian bride offers to draw me up a bath.

01.30 The Russian bride finishes preparing a relaxing bath for me in a wooden tub on their second floor balcony. The Finnish seaman, still drunk, asks the bride if he can join me and starts caressing my feet. I threw a cushion at him to get him to shut up.

02.00 I'm in bed in the guest room. They get in the tub together.

09.45 We've had breakfast, and it's time for me to leave. I can't find my way to the main road because I'm unfamiliar with the city. It was snowing too, so visibility was crap. The Russian bride looked at me with disbelief when I told her that it was only my third visit to the city. The bride rattles off in broken Finnish that the seaman should not leave the house because he has things to do at home. I tried in vain to get the seaman to draw me a map, or to give me verbal instructions. He insists on leading me out to the main road so I could find my way home. I thought his offer was genuine, so I accepted.

Review
Maybe I misinterpreted the whole thing, but the seaman had been touching me all evening. The idea of a tryst was not out of the question, but I was exhausted, he was too drunk, and I was not at all aroused by the bride. She looked scary, and this was not a pick-and-choose-the-partner situation. What was puzzling though, was her behaviour this morning. Ordering her husband not to leave the house today, even to give me directions in bad weather. Don't leave the house: Direct challenge to his ego! After all, he did have the object of his lust sleep in his home. I wonder how things would have turned out if I had engaged her in a tongue lock? That would never have happened though.

Classic case of jealousy after the "menage a trois", except that it never happened. I felt that despite her fantasies, she wasn't ready for such grownup activities.

As far as I'm concerned though, it was just an innocent sleepover.

VERBATIM: An account of delusion

2005-11-23T10:28:00.000+09:00

Background

I met L in winter, 2004 while I was on a special assignment in another country. L asked if we could sit down and have a chat so I said yes and we had dinner. He told me he had a partner, so I let him know that sex was out of the question. A week later, he informed me that it was his decision not to sleep with me.

Soon, he writes me e-mails asking me if I want him to be in my life. That he wants to know where "this" is going. I say..no...it's kind of counterintuitive for me to have a long-distance affair with a man who is attached. I stopped answering his e-mail. Six months later, he writes that it was his decision to stop writing me. Thing is, I don't have the heart to tell this man that I have never been sexually attracted to him.

Next week, I'll be returning to his country on a different assignment. I needed some information so three weeks ago, I contacted him in our professional capacity, with a proposal and deadlines. Very formal. He responds in kind, as a professional.

I'm thinking that everything is fine, and I bumped into him on MSN Messenger last night. The first part of our conversation was business, but all of a sudden the conversation took at twist that shocked the hell out of me. I couldn't believe what he was saying to me. The guy can't even tell the truth to himself.

The conversation

L: my partner has seen emails from you....she has asked many questions about you
SG: your partner reads your e-mails? Talk about an open relationship.
L: well..... this has been a new discovery
SG: so, what have you told her?
L: how we met...generally the pleasure of chat on msn
SG: and how did she respond?
L: like a volcano errupting:@
SG: I see... did you mean for her to find your e-mails?
L: probably..... it was an open book for people to see
SG: this is an interesting development.... so what did you say to her when she erupted? did you tell her that we never had sex?
L: yes, but she doesn't believe it
SG: why should she...
L: exactly
SG: the point is, you have a relationship that you've invested some time and energy in, so I'm assuming you're still living at home
L: hahahahah..... yes… just
SG: she'll forgive you...
L: yes
SG: I'm so happy I don't have those issues waiting at home for me after a busy day
L: yes.... you are better off ..i think she would be blown away to find out that you are Jamaican
SG: she doesn't like black women?
L: not at all… in fact i believe you would both get on very well and that's not male ego talkin...
SG: what's talking?
L: my objective overwiew
SG: are you making this up?
L: no, not at all
SG: if you aren't you're obviously not scared of your girlfriend
L: it is not good to live in fear…in fact i believe we should be more open sexually.... and not fear the consequences… unfortunately humans are frail in general
SG: uh huh? that's easy to say when you're the super-ordinate one in the relationship
L: i was very much in that category in younger years ...so what do you think ??? should i cease communicating with you? should i please my partner?.
SG: I see, so we get around to the point of the discussion... let's say that you should cease communicating with me
L: mmmmm
SG: we've never been in a relationship, so it's unfair to say that it's my problem. I won't incur any losses and you will have shown her, by your virtual indiscretions, who's boss
L: i certainly didn't imply that it was your problem
SG: of course you did…you said that "my e-mails" were found, as opposed to yours
L: well i do apologise..... my terminology was inadequate,
SG: so it's as if I were stalking you …when I only wrote to ask for your assistance as a professional
L: this is my issue totally :D
SG: I'm really sorry that I bothered you
L: please do not apologise
SG: I do apologise...I never actually expected that you would bait me like this
L: i genuinely want to help as a professional
SG: it's a real low blow…I wish you had said something sooner
L: please do not read something into this that is not there..now i feel bad
SG: don't
L: too late!
SG: as I said, you were super-ordinate … you're in control, so you don't need people to tell you what to do with your life
L: I like you a lot Shaggy's Girl...........
SG: please don't say that....it makes me sound pathetic
L: i would like to keep in touch......... but i have laid a rocky path..so i better go for now… at no time had i meant any disrespect...... so i apologise for being a silly man ..
you must hate me now.....
SG: not at all
L: well at least share a coffee with me when you come to town
SG: I don't think I'll do that
L: i respect that......i will be sad not to speak to or see you again
SG: stop being a baby, you're getting what you want
L: true…but i do want my cake and eat it as well…i wish you well SG…Goodnight
L: i am still willing to do things for you, but if i have blown it, so be it
SG: I've already got past this issue
L: yes.... i thought you might have....

Poverty of Mind

2005-11-22T19:45:00.000+09:00

NO culture is 100% squeaky clean, but recently I was reminded of what makes Jamaica a truly ugly society. It's not the crime, violence, bribery or drug smuggling. It's the day to day subtleties. The way a Jamaican man treats every woman. The "as yuh si mi gi mi" attitude.

Every time you reject a man's (psssst) call to come hither, the response is: "gweh gyal, yuh tink seh yuh pussy can buy mi car?"

Donna Hope wrote an excellent article on misogyny in Jamaican culture:

One should note here that patriarchy is not only male dominance in its strictest sense, but also a persistent ideology of male super-ordination that both men and women maintain consciously and unconsciously...The process, which began around the 16th century, of defining women and non-whites as savage, uncontrollable and uncivilised, provided an opening for the domestication and exploitation of these groups.

Carolyn Cooper says that Jamaican " men are stereotyped as dog-hearted predators stalking potential victims." I disagree with her use of the term "stereotyped", because she does not account for the dog-hearted predators who are out there.

Did I have any experiences with men who tried to cut me down to size? I've had quite a few that I'll share here.

Incident A
Six months ago, an ex-lover from UWI calls me one night, and starts talking to me as if we had a relationship. I say to him that relationships need a little more nurturing than he has been giving. His reaction? To laugh at me and cluck like a rooster, saying that men should never date women who are intellectually superior to them. Huh? I stand up for myself and I'm expressing my emotional needs and suddenly I become an intellectual. Bizarre.

Incident B
A pompous asshole I met at UWI, asked me to teach him to use a computer. He feels foolish because he doesn't know how to hold the mouse. His response? Instead of listening to me, he talks to the guy at the other terminal and says how you should never learn anything from a woman, especially if he wants to screw her later.

Incident C
I'm at the printers in New Kingston trying to get some business cards printed. I'm waiting patiently at the counter, then one of my ex-flings walks into the lobby. He gets served first, and the counter clerk is showing him her breasts while her face is inches from his. I softly remind her that I'm waiting for my order to be completed. Ex-fling turns around and says: "Basically, you talk too much".

Incident D
I had wrapped up a seminar presentation for my master's. Ex-boyfriend shoves a published letter to the editor of the Jamaica Gleaner under my nose, just to prove to me that he could write. (He was a therapist with a thriving private practice). Then he ignored my full-page articles in the same edition of the paper, saying that he never has time to read newspapers.

In summary, male-female relations are dominated by violence which is forced into dormancy by a woman's acquiescence to her man's whims and fancies. So glad I'm not caught up in that.