Review: Little Miss Statia and more.

Ah guh a lot to say so let we just start.

Let me start by saying I wish things on Statia would start on time at least once. 

Sherees Timber has done an epic job! I am sure that it is difficult to get sponsors and participants but she has done her very best and I am truly proud of her. If you're on Statia I  think you should thank this young woman for helping bring much-needed culture to our children and community at large.

The Little Miss Statia pageant had wonderful contestants and they all did an amazing job.  As with most competitions, it is impossible to whole-heartedly agree with every decision made by the judges but I agree with them that the best contestant of the night was miss De Palm. She had so much grace and composure. Her evening wear stole the show when she turned into a real-life jack in the box.

My criticism lies between the second and first runner-up. In the talent segment, the judges seemed as mesmerized as the crowd was by miss Redan's props that they forgot that she was supposed to be the talent! While entertaining, the humor was brought to us not be the contestant but by the actors who should have been voiceless props. Instead, they had extensive LINES! Furthermore, her performance contained a long voiceover. My preference is to have everything done live. I was far more impressed when I saw how hard De Palm and Spanner worked to recite their lines and deliver them with conviction.

Also, each contestant was prepared for the question aspect. The fact that the little girls all regurgitated an answer that they had rehearsed rubbed me the wrong way. A queen should have her own words and thoughts. The questions should have been a bit more relevant to their age group and should have raised awareness about important societal issues. Next year I want to hear about recycling, protecting marine life or even about how animals in the circus are not treated well, etc. Our kids have more in them and should be challenged.

DISCLAIMER THE FOLLOWING IS NOT MEANT TO OFFEND ANYONE AND IS MERELY A CRITICISM!

Last night the crown for Senior Carnival Queen was passed on to miss Kentonea Fortin. She recently won the place of 1st runner-up a pageant in the USA and is a capable candidate for queen. I do question why they chose to announce her instead of any of the other 2016 contestants. Notwithstanding that she is a perfect choice and I hope that her reign will be a bright one.

All of my qualms are with our former queen miss Chande Eboni Rivers. Her reign was a long one and has most likely come to a close because she is starting a family. Eboni has served our community with wisdom, poise, and grace. As an ambassador, she has embodied what it means to be a Statian and is a role model to many Statians. This being said I do not think she should have been a part of last night's show. According to all international rules, a queen should not be married or have children. Based on these rules alone Eboni could no longer be a queen and therefore should not have been on stage and definitely should not have been the one asking the girls questions during the evening wear segment.

While many may see this as no big deal this signals a deeply rooted problem within our community; we accept the unacceptable.  The rest of the world will not accept our version of the rules. This case is not unique and in every other country there was an announcement made and a new queen was named. It is that simple. We need to stop doing things our and start doing them the right way!

In the coming years, I hope to see improvements. I want to Statia rise and become the best version of ourselves that we can be. Rise Statia!

XOXO,

Island Gyal

Pain: Being Mentally Unhealthy

If you're the type of person who is triggered by themes such as suicide, death and depression please do not continue reading. If yoon guh no problem leh we jus staht.

I have always known that I am an emotional being. I could become murderously furious because I feel as if some injustice has been committed against me or anyone for that matter. This same girl can be moved to tears when confronted by a dead cricket. My emotions have often ruled my life and caused me to make very bad decisions. However, in the past few years, they have been protecting me from acting rashly. Fear has been my driving factor, all because I am afraid of pain. According to every biological law, pain is a natural experience and is actually used to protect us from critical damage.  I am rarely one to oppose facts but somehow I do not think that this rule pertains to mental health.

I think I have seen and experienced more death than anyone should. I am 25 years old and in the space of eleven years, I have lost about six family members. This does not include people who were close to me like a former classmate, student, and a very drunk mate. As someone working in the social sector, I understand how important mental health is not just for me but for everyone I come in contact with, especially at my job. So when I realized that I was slowly but surely slipping I went to see a psychologist. I was almost immediately diagnosed with depression and PTSD, a conclusion that I had long come to but needed professional confirmation. My doctors and I are currently doing a treatment called EMDR and I think it is working but I can not judge until the process has come to a close.

What I do know is that I am not okay. A part of me that is in constant agony. I contemplate my demise and that of people around me; on a daily basis. My brain refuses to allow me any form of rest that has not been medically induced therefore sleep without dreams is often a welcomed change. I avoid crowded places at any cost as I do not want to be in a situation in which something horrible happens. That is what depression feels like. What it looks like is a completely different story because I do not look depressed. There is a constant smile on my face as I hear a voice yell that I should grin and bear it. There is another voice reminding me to be funny and make people laugh for if they laugh hard enough they will not see that your smile never reaches your eyes. The monotony of my sadness is something that I have grown used to and I am even quite fond of some of my voices. The one that sounds like Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z makes me laugh because I am aware that my impulse to show my boss the true power of an Afro-Caribbean warrior is mostly insane and let's face it I need my job.

The worst bit is wanting people to understand you yet knowing they are incapable of such empathy. My boyfriend once used the word manic to describe my behavior and I immediately became manic on the inside. Suddenly my thoughts that at the time were quite settled began to frenzy and spiral out of control. On the outside, I remained silent. How could I respond to such an accusation? Was he experiencing my behavior as such? It turns out he had simply misspoken. He meant that I was being hyperactive. This one slip led me to consider if his life would be better without me for who could want a manic girlfriend?

Suicide is an odd thing. Many people will spew lies about it being a sinful choice. I am behooved to ask those people how babies choose to develop leukemia or how people of African descent choose for sickle cell anemia. Health is not a choice and too often we take a look at someone's perpetual melancholy and brush it off as a choice. The amount of self-loathing I have done because I have these thoughts is probably what would eventually be the catalyst for self-harm. Society has told me that I am less of a human if I truly consider myself to be as a being unworthy of life. They have shoved their heads so deep into their bibles or asses that they cannot see the truth: I just want it to stop.

People with mental health issues want to leave the dismal pit that is their lives. They want the paroxysms of rage, despair and just plain old pain to end. I have no idea what will stop my pain. Maybe it will be therapy, medication, a long vacation on the beach or a sleep from which I do not awaken. I do know that no one should ever share their opinion on how I should "choose" to be better.

I hope you understood what I did here. Be kind in the comments as this is extremely personal. Remember to try to have a few moments of honesty if you are going through something similar. I have found this experience to be truly cathartic.

XOXO,

IslandGyal

My FAKE "Battle"!

The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion. -Albert Camus
As I write this from my hospital chair I am saddened by the events that have lead up to this but this is one of the most important things I may ever write so open yuh ear dem n listen. Well in dis case yuh eye dem but ahyou kno wa ah mean.

If you know me you probably know that I am ill. I was diagnosed in April 2018 and since then a lot has changed and yet a lot has remained the same. I still enjoy Who's This Freddy's chicken, I still love soca while working hard in my gospel choir. I am not always happy but if I am being honest mental health has been a longtime struggle for me. Looking back I think the first time I was ever depressed was in 2006 at the age of twelve. So I am unable to say that this is all cancer's fault because it is not. What has changed the most is people around me, they have expectations and the idea of having to meet them all is slowly driving me insane. I want to explain.

There is not a day since I shared my diagnosis that I have not been told what to do. Stop eating meat, become a vegan, drink this, smoke that, "this is the cure" kind of BULLSHIT. To say I am exhausted by all of this would be to say we humans need water to live. THIS IS KNOWN! I have vocalized this and yet everyday people post fake articles talking about some "magic plant" or a cover up by pharmaceutical companies. There is an uncontrollable urge that impels me to do the one thing I should never do and that is to scroll to the comment section. It is there that a real battle begins; the educated versus the ignorant conspiracy theorists who were never explained the importance of proper sourcing. At some point I am forced to tell the truth and after I share my story the inevitable happens, someone will say that they hope I win my battle.

As the youngest of six children, I am a fighter because how could I not be? My brothers are insane! I know what it feels like to have odds stacked against me and to fight until I make it. However, cancer is really not a battle, not to me at least. Somehow these two very different things have become related if not synonymous. The trouble with this is that I am not fighting anything. I did not choose this as some form of sacrifice or out of patriotism to the human race. I am just sick. I do not have the strength and courage that is expected and why should I? For there is no amount of positivity that will tell my body to stop behaving badly and to produce red blood cells instead of copious amounts of white ones. Prayers do not work in the way we hope and neither do positive thoughts. So I have given up on that so I want you to as well. When I was fourteen one of my aunts died. My aunt was beautiful beyond description and I recognize that it was my family who needed to be brave, have courage and pray for strength.

My aunt Rosemary was physically weak, so were my aunts Rosita and Shirley. I am as well. I cry often, I scream more and I cheerful. I understand that there is sometimes no hope to be offered, just peace. I do not know if I will ever get better and there is nothing wrong with that. I am not fighting so I can never give up. I am living. That means that I go to the hospital, crack jokes, get poisoned and go home to do it again in a day. I am perfectly fine with this. What I want is for others to be as well. I want people to accept that suicide is a real thought, that euthanasia is an option and that living is excruciatingly hard. Instead of hearing people talk about the insanity that is war I want religious people to pray that God grants me more good days than bad. I want everyone to ask how I am doing, what I ate and how I am spending my free time. I want people to see that every cancer patient is different yet very much the same. We all have to accept that sometimes there is nothing else. If my cancer dies I will be grateful and I will be a survivor, not a victor. If it does not I will be a person who died from a very horrible disease. I will be a person who tried to get better and did not. I will not be the poor young adult with the tumor, bad bone marrow, radiation and operations.  I will be Urisha and  I will be free.

XOXO,

IslandGyal