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

Silence is Complicity: We're breaking up.

Now errybody kno I like white man buh I done wid them n dis is why.

On October 20th, 2017 I ran home to post a blog about what happened at the supermarket. A racist cashier told my boyfriend to speak Dutch to me  or "they" never learn. My boyfriend said nothing. He was visibly angered by the event and cursed a lot on the way home but he said nothing to the cashier. On January 18th a man sat at my kitchen table and joked that I was the slave of the house. My boyfriend said nothing and neither did my housemate. I decided to leave the situation because my house is partially my workplace and I did not want to make a scene. However I was annoyed. What bothered me is that no one stood up for me. No one asked him why he thought that was ok. In that moment I realized that my boyfriend and I had been through more awkward situations and he said nothing. I thought more about it and realized that it is not just my boyfriend but EVERY WHITE person I've met since I moved to the Netherlands. The pattern is unnerving.

I am that girl who helps the old ladies at the grocery store. I stand up for people regardless of their religion, gender or ethinicity whenever I see injustice. Yet somehow it seems as if while I am willing to go out of my way for others no one is even willing to say simple words like "that's not funny" or "that was racist".  My feelings on this matter all came to a head while talking to a new friend about Jackie Aina. He said that her video with Alyssa Ashley was a boring topic. This is literally a video that started out saying that the brand does not care about black people. While I am aware that most men would call beauty videos boring I was shocked that he as a white man could not see what the black girl was seeing. There's a saying that Statians say a lot "he who feels it knows" and never has it been truer. White people don't care about black people's racial struggles. It simply cannot be important to them because they do not understand.

I am aware that this sounds harsh and I know that it is also human nature but at some point and time we all have to be honest with ourselves. Do you care that black women are forced to spend double on beauty products if you're not footing the bill? No. Do you care that the Rotterdam police just came up with some new way to fight crime by asking citizens dressed in expensive clothes to prove that they obtained the item they are wearing legally? Not if you're white because technically white people do not fit the profile of being poor. So if you're white you cannot care because this will in no way affect you. If you do not have to speak to your child about how to act in a white neighborhood and how they should not wear a hoodie, walk in groups or by themselves why should you care? You cannot care that good schools systematically shut out minorities by raising their school fees. These conditions and unspoken rules simply do not apply to you.

Here's the funniest thing, you either read that last paragraph nodding or feeling attacked. If you felt attacked please know that you're not racist, you just place your race above others. If you are white and you're not willing to stand up for one cause that does not impact your race or if you can't even think of one you are a part of the problem and I see you as person who chooses to hurt minorities. It's really simple. If you hear your neighbor yelling at his kids and you hear things being thrown and you turn up the television you're not a bad person. Unless, the neighbor ends up raping and killing his kids one day all because you never turned down the TV, knocked on his door and called the police. Your silence can make you a killer, rapist or racist. Your silence can make you complicit.

XOXO,

IslandGyal

My PREGNANCY and other important info

If by some miracle you missed it here's my tummy again.

If you came here from my Facebook you all can tell the world that this is true. Anyway if you are done examining my belly, leh we staht.

 

 

This picture was taken yesterday at a steak restaurant. I had the best nachos of my life and feeling stuffed I expelled my stomach, something I have always been able to do. When I did it my boyfriend looked at me with an odd face and I realized that I looked EXTREMELY pregnant. Being the type of person that I am it was important to snap and share this picture. I intended to talk about a food baby but as I stared at the picture I looked even more pregnant. When I shared it social media went wild! I started receiving nice congratulatory messages and doubtful responses as well. As that happened I began to think about women in general and how pregnancy is such a huge part of our existence.  No I am not pregnant but I need you to read this.

 

Half of all pregnancies do not result in babies. Most pregnancies actually go unrecognized by the female body. The uterus is so smart that she say "nah sometin rong, dis was bad sperm. Leh we staht ova." This means that most women will be pregnant at some point in their lives but this should not be expected. At some point and time it was a woman's job to reproduce. Fortunately this is not the case in 2017 yet there is a constant silent pressure for women to have children. A few weeks ago my boyfriend and I went to church and people actually asked about a wedding. At age 23 I see no reason for marriage. I do not need one. I also see no reason to have children now or in 10 years or even in 20 years. Yes in 20 years I will be 43 and that is considered old which leads me to my next point.

 

WOMEN CAN HAVE CHILDREN WHEN THEY PLEASE! If a woman decides to freeze her eggs and continue with her career she should not be seen as selfish. If she says that she wants to adopt instead of carry what is essentially a human parasite that should be fine as well. Often times men do not understand the gravity of pregnancy and they do not have to because they are men. Last night while stuffing my gut yet again my boyfriend and I discussed our birth control  experiences. For him it was extremely rough. He never knew what I wanted, I would change moods within seconds and I was completely out of touch with reality. He said that for him it was difficult to see me suffer and be helpless to fix it. While I now understand his frustrations at the time I truly did not care. I was on hormones that I could not get out of my body and he was fine. My world was upside down and he was fine. I could not stop bleeding and he was FINE. In comparison to everything women go through physically and mentally in regards to reproduction men are FINE. The fact that they pity themselves so much is a huge part of the problem.

 

How often have you seen men protesting in the streets for their right to paternity leave? How often do you see men speaking out about women's rights to choose abortions? These same men are the first to suggest abortions to their girlfriends, mistresses and even wives yet they cannot stand up and speak out? Never have I heard the men in my life talk about women's rights of their own free will. Black lives matter? Sure. The government needs to stop lying to us? Hallelujah. Birth control should be free? Umm... Feminine products should not be taxed as every woman in the world will need them at some point and time? Silence. If a man is unaware of these problems he is a part of the problem.

 

This is not just about the men though because women are awful as well. We teach our daughters to grin and bare the same mess we did. We frown at women who speak out on the unfair subject because really who needs to see female breasts on television. Who needs to see shirtless men? We sexualize our daughter's nudity and therefore give men license to do the same and I could go on and on but it is almost 8pm and we have to go get dinner.

 

No I'm not pregnant. If I was, that would be great. I'm not and that is fantastic! There is no right or wrong. If you are pregnant and you do not want to be, feel free to terminate the pregnancy. If it is too late for that adoption is an option. If you never want to have children that is ok too. If you are having trouble conceiving, I am sorry and I hope it happens soon. If you have a rounder tummy please do not allow anyone to shame you. If you are like me and capable of overextending her diaphragm please start singing and belting those notes. Whatever your situation is it is your tummy and no one gets to tell you anything about it.

 

Choose your life, love yourself.

 

XOXO,

 

IslandGyal

 

 



Interracial Couple Chronicles: The Backfire of the Hasty Assumption Trap

Ah done tell ahyou dat Dutch people just racist. For absolutely no reason! No I don't want to generalize but at some point and time somebody gotta tell me why de hell dis does happen so much man. Leh we staht see!

On a stormy afternoon in Rotterdam my boyfriend and I decide to have lunch at a wonderful diner called By Jarmusch. We then crossed the street to do some grocery shopping for our movie night. We both live near this grocery store so we are regular customers. While standing in the check-out line we chatted and when our turn came I started packing the bag. Suddenly the white middle-aged cashier leaned over to my boyfriend and said "you should speak Dutch to her if she lives here, otherwise they never learn it." My boyfriend was stunned and I in awe. Why would anyone look at two people and assume all of this. I could not grasp any of it. I turned to her and said and said in Dutch that I speak the language just fine. For a split second I saw her swallow her pride but it was unfortunately far too strong so it came right back up. If you know me then you know that I detest vomit and the words that came out of her mouth seemed to be just that.

"I get people all the time who only speak English and we speak to them in English but we should speak Dutch to them. " I marveled at the woman. How did she come to the conclusion that my boyfriend was the Dutch one? Was it because he said that the cheese was his? 'Het is van mij.' Couldn't anyone say these words? Why did I have to be a foreigner? Why couldn't I be practicing my English or more likely that he was practicing his? She assumed all the things she did because I am black and my boyfriend looks as white as they come. What bothered me the most was the way the lady defended her point as if she had not just made a huge mistake. I even told her that I could just as well be an American on vacation. Yet she continued to spew more babble while all my boyfriend wanted to say is "lady just mind your business". Instead, we both walked away.

I left the Dirk van den Broek on the Goudsesingel angry, hurt and disappointed. One would think that living in a city as big as Rotterdam would  not come with prejudice at every turn. Unfortunately I left the shop feeling let down yet again. It feels as if every time I give Dutch caucasians a chance, they prove to me that they cannot do better. I do not want to put anyone in a box but the fact that a woman felt comfortable enough to speak about me as if I was not there, in a language that she assumed I did not understand shows how much thinks about people who look like me. The message she sent was a clear one and that is we do not want you here unless you act how we think you should. 

I wonder if that is what I should be teaching my students. I wonder if this is what the Dirk intended when they put her at the register. I wonder if she will think about what she did. I wonder if anyone will read this and actually understand why I am emotional about this. I wonder if this will change anything.

XOXO, 

IslandGyal

P.S. Bae chose today's title. Please let us know what you thought about it.

7 Days a Slave part 1

After I heard of my aunt's passing a deep sadness set in as there was no way I could afford a trip for $1000. I cried everyday dreading the thought of saying goodbye via a live-streamed video but there was nothing to be done. I cried and cried and then my brothers both found tickets for half the price and I was finally awarded funds that I had been waiting on for months. So on Saturday September 2nd I bought a ticket and everything felt right. Buh nothin in my life does go easy so Irma come n mash up errybody plans. Leh me tell yuh bout mah slaveship journey.

Hurricane Irma seemed harmless at first but by Wednesday my family on St. Thomas had decided to postpone Auntie's funeral as there was simply no way to get everyone safely there with not one but two hurricanes on the way. The rebooking process began and as I called the travel agents I would keep getting new and different stories. After two days and 13 hours of working on the tickets for my three siblings as well I was done. I felt as if I had just run a marathon. Could nothing good happen? The answer was a simple: no.

It turns out that St. Thomas was devastated by Irma and that everything would become more complicated. The airport having lost all contact with the outside world would not be open to commercial flights. So now we had tickets to a place we could not fly to. Yet American Airlines did not enlighten us about this fact. We were scheduled to leave Amsterdam in the afternoon, catch a flight from London to JFK, sleep there one night and then fly on to St. Thomas. As luck would have it the North Sea began to churn out its own storm, thus all Schiphol flights were delayed. When we finally arrived at London Heathrow our connecting flight was long gone and this is where the drama truly began.

By then I was positive that there were no flights to St. Thomas and that I needed to fly to Puerto Rico where my uncle would pick us up with his plane. When I told the British Airways agent this they insisted that their were flights available and was booked on a flight to Atlanta and from Atlanta I would travel to St. Thomas. Please note that this was an America Airline ticket and up to that point I had never spoken to an AA ground agent. So when we got to ATL we were put up in a nice hotel and I thought that everything would be fine, until I checked my flight before I went to bed. The flight that would be operated by Delta had been cancelled. The next morning Delta explained that American Airlines was still selling tickets knowing that there is no airport. If you have lost track of what day we are on it was day 3, Friday. Delta informed us that there were no flights to San Juan, Puerto Rico but after much, crying and begging they found us a seat for Saturday morning. Stuck in ATL for another day we met up with our mom's good friends and had a wonderful day.

We made it to Puerto Rico and my fabulous uncle picked us up and flew us over to St. Thomas but there is much more to this story. Stay tuned for part 2.

XOXO,

IslandGyal