Browning = Jamaican Shadeism

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

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

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

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.

Jetrosexual: The new black?

Jetrosexual (n):

Someone whose career, homes and love life are spread across several continents, and who has become completely at home with international air travel.

VIRGIN ATLANTIC has coined the term "Jetrosexual" to define the new breed of traveller. It's a blatant marketing gimmick, but I love this new word. Let's see, I don't have a love life, and I cotch with friends when I travel. Do I still qualify?

"Why yuh callin' out mi name? Mi know yuh?"

Tobi is a moderator and a "god" of the Jamaica Star Web Board. She is supposed to be an expert on the fashion and beauty scene. Given her vulgarity, I feel somewhat dirty even writing about her my blog. However, given this woman's oligarchic tendencies, and the danger that this post would be deleted if I had placed it on the Jamaica Star Forum, I decided to put the post here on this blog where she can't touch it.

The Web Forum
I'm going to ignore the poor design of the web board. I'm going to ignore that people post their photos on the board without modifying their size first. I'm also going to ignore the avatar of a woman sitting on her bed, and the tasteless gifs of women with round bottoms doing variously suggestive things.

Notwithstanding, the forum is a good source of information, and I am not one to scorn any source of information. Frankly, I am not even going to ask how come Tobi became a web board administrator, because I've read what the Jamaica Star prints.

Tobi
Tobi channels the secretary who used to sew her own curtains in a certain laboratory at the UWI Mona Campus. This secretary would get on her high horse because she held the keys to the laboratory's rooms and because she had a computer on her desk. At that time, students weren't bringing laptops to campus and Miss Hanna had not yet bestowed upon us a fully equipped computer lab, so the secretary felt that she had some power over students. Somewhat like monkey with a new machine.

When I see Tobi's writing I get the strong image of the alcoholic mother of my first boyfriend. This woman was a fabulous cook, but she would walk around the house in a see-through nightie. Her 40-something-year old breasts would droop to the floor. If her son crossed her, she would pull up the hem of the gown tell him about his dutty bomboraasclaat (did I spell that right?).

Tobi, the Jamaica Star Moderator, combines the essence of these two women. She would be so virtuous and correct at one moment, scolding posters for revealing other people's secrets and reminding them that only she knows who is ugly and what is not. If you look closely, she's an over-exposed matron with the keys for the rooms to an outdated building. What amuses me is that people are actually afraid of her because she can delete their posts.

Part 1
Raquel Wright, Miss Jamaica Universe 2005, has been one of her victims. This beautiful wholesome-looking girl saw everyone jumping on a bandwagon to say they didn't like her looks, just so they could ingratiate themselves with Tobi.

Oct 30th, 2005, 5:00pm, Structure wrote:It is beginning to seam that the only beauty queen you did not have a problem with was raquel wright. I wonder why?


Started by TOBI | Post by Mr Puppet
on Sep 12th, 2005, 3:31pm, TOBI wrote:

you obviously have issues....& I hope you get help....Terri Karelle is a popular choice, a fab girl, with all the right attributes to be seen & heard...watch her glow at Miss World, & then we can continue this discussion....Tonoya leaves a sour taste in my mouth......there is no comparison with Terri...she will go places..with or without u...

I AGREE TOBI..SOME PEOPLE ON HERE JUST ALWAYS GO AGAINST ANYTHING POSITIVE

As if the Miss Jamaica Universe pageant were a big deal in the first place! Almost no-one contradicted Tobi, who announced that Raquel was ugly, and Tobi has the last word on who is ugly and who is not.

Post by TOBI Nov 2nd, 2005, 8:02am
My only comments on this, it is first and foremost a beauty pageant...whereas you can enhance a persons public speaking skills & make them more comfortably socially, ie more outgoing...you simply cannto makeover a girl as unattractive as Raquel Wright or Tonoya & expect them to be seen in an INtL beauty pageant, its simply a waste of time.

People who post comments on that web board would beg her not to cuss them out because they knew when a certain opinion would not meet her sanction.

October 16, 2005 Post by Structure:
OK, please do not cuss me off, but is Terri facially attractive enough to pull it off?

Soon after telling everyone to shut up, Tobi would reveal another person's secrets, without reprimand. In fact, the ensuing conversation seems like gang warfare.

Tobi
Star Moderator
Star God

Re: Beyonce's hair
Reply #8 on: Aug 11, 2005, 8:03pm

LOL..poor beyonce...someone who move in gossip circles, told me shes actually Haitian, but refuse to admit it....

Romalon
Star God
tobi, lol, lol. someone who move in gossip circles ? ?.. you should call names sometines so we can be aware of gossip mongers ..ha, ha, ....

I don't know Tobi personally, but I would accept her opinions if she were consistent or even political. That is, if she had chosen a position, left or right and stayed there. At least you know what she stands for. However, her only position seems to be whatever comes to her fingertips as she types. Her behaviour reminds me of what a wise person said to scold me: being a biyotch just because you can be might be fun for you, but is reprehensible to others.

Someone else had this to say about Tobi's behaviour, and I swear it wasn't Shaggy's girl:

Now I am sure Terri will win simply because she is the best of a bad lot, but reading all this crap that both Tobi and Romolon have written has definately made me lose all respect for the past statements and criticisms they have made of the other recent pageants. For one you guys keep emphasizing that its her personality that really sets her apart. Yet when raquel wright won Miss Universe you were quick to say that personality has nothing to do with it. Tobi, you actually complimented the dreadful dancehall queen pink costume she is wearing, which really made me realize that obviously you have no taste.

Part 2
Tobi once complained about how her posts would be deleted by somebody else (as a forum administrator, she should realise that it's inappropriate to discuss these internal issues with the public).

On Mar 2nd, 2005, 10:04am, TOBI wrote:

I cant believe Star...Im getting weary...you make the effort to post a topic with photos, start an interesting discussion...& then its zapped...deleted...cant be bothered ..Ive also gotton complaints from other posters who tell me they crash while posting a reply..or loose their user ID....STAR need to get their act together before they go public with this forum, and take it Global...

Later, she boasted that she had the power to delete posts. Tobi, the Star god, doesn't strike me as the sort of person who can be trusted with other people's words. I'm trying to understand how she feels about having the power over other people's opinions. It must make her feel so good about herself. I know that I'm not taking this out of context because her words are right here.

Leisure fashion and arts / Fashion, Beauty & Lifestyle / Re: NEW BOOK: TRICKS OF JAMAICAN MEN Sep 14th, 2005, 8:30pm
Started by seduce-now Post by TOBI on Sep 14th, 2005, 5:30pm

Might I remind u, this forum is not a market place, you simply cant just come here to buy or sell..:)...if your issue has to do with literary content & feedback on what you read, thats a different matter, but when you want to promote or sell, I find its always better to call the Gleaner Advt Desk :)...I wouldve deleted your posting, but having checked the site it appeared you might not have had any direct commercial interest....pls correct me if Im wrong...

Another poster wrote, ironically, that:

It has come to me that some one don't want them name pon Forum...hence friendship, Nepotism maybe one of the factors at play here. It is amazing how the fashion page lost a few postings. I SMELL SABOTAGE, FRIENDSHIP, NEPOTISM OR JUST PLAIN AS DAY FKRY

Is that right? Actually, I smell chicken dung.

Tobi is a shining example of the culture of self-censorship/shame tree that forces Jamaican people to be quiet about the little injustices that happen around them. A person who doesn't like another person's opinions puts on his/her pontiff's mask and then wails as loudly as possible about how evil and malicious another person is. "You attacked the person whose ass I'm kissing, stop!" These people feel ashamed for the moment because they think they did something wrong, but in the next instant the same pontiff goes back into a feeding frenzy with his/her shark's mask.

Appalling.

Over-Tara

I have to feel sorry for Tara Abrahams Clivio, she's trying desperately hard to prove that she did not get her part-time writing job at the Jamaica Observer because her daddy is famous.

We already pointed out that Tara is of black African descent, but she insists on using the third person plural to refer to members of her own ethnic group. She seems to be saying that all upper middle class people in Jamaica are "white"/"European"? Tara is a bored housewife, and somewhat of a cry-baby judging from her latest attempt at poetry. I am confused about Tara's platform because she refuses to acknowledge her heritage and ingenuously continues to display her upper-middle class ignorance to the reading public. No wonder people make fun of her.

For example, one reader (not Shaggy's girl) had this to say after her September 29 article on domestic helpers:

I often wonder if I am the only one who, after reading Tara Abrahams-Clivio, says "What tha'.?" Quite frankly, I am baffled as to why she has column space in the Observer. I am guilty of reading it, but I just think I do so not for the "substance" of what she says (because, that, it surely lacks) but to see what ridiculous thing she is going to write about next.

I don't think that Tara understands the meaning of hardship. Taking on a job at McDonald's and being victimised by a white anal-retentive boss doesn't make you a helper. When the daughter of a Jamaican media executive goes to a fast food restaurant and mops floors, she's doing social research. Just like Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie for "The Simple Life". Or like Prince William in Kenya.

You see, even as a McDonald's employee, Tara was insulated from hardship because she always had daddy's mansion to run to at the end of a long, hard day. Seeking after hardship when you had a social safety net is a lifestyle choice, and is not the same as being powerless to escape hardship. Furthermore, most helpers can't afford to spend upwards of JM $200 on a McDonald's hamburger, so Tara would have been meeting her friends and neighbours anyhow.

Speaking of hardship, I recently saw a documentary about a beautiful young white girl in Argentina who gave birth to her first child at 13, and who could not even get a job as a helper because there was no-one to take care of her child. She lived in an old hut in the middle of a dirt patch, cooked her meals outdoors and slept on wooden slats each night, with another young, homeless mother and her child. She had only the clothes on her back, and the baby had no clothes to wear.

She could not afford to buy medicine for her son who was now suffering from malnutrition, and had huge legions on his skin. The paediatrician could only offer her cold comfort. "The child is your responsibility. You are everything he has". She decided to look for a job but couldn't find one because she was underaged and had a young baby.

Of course I didn't have to go that far to find stories about hardship. They exist right here in Jamaica.

Tara doesn't have to experience hardship to feel sympathy for people who are less fortunate, and she doesn't have to feel guilty for having had a privileged background. She should give thanks that her children have a father to provide for them and that she never has to worry about where to rest her head at night.

I would rather see Tara spend her time working for charity. Maybe it will give her better material for her poetry in the Jamaica Observer.


Thursday, November 10, 2005
Mopping floors
Tara Abrahams-Clivio
(In defense of statement by above-mentioned critic)

To the critics who feel that all helpers are poor, black women from the country who are so simple that they are so easily exploited and incapable of honouring the basic elements of an employment "contract", those who feel that the rich are all "white" and useless, unable to even mop a floor, preoccupied with socialising, and those who feel that certain women's opinions should be censored, maybe now you do know just a little about me. Now you might understand that I do not feel mopping the floor is beneath me. I have done it, and continue to do it if need be, just not particularly well, it seems. Maybe now I don't fit your stereotype of someone who feels she is superior to the working-class woman, because I have done her job. Maybe you felt I thought I was also superior to you, maybe now you will think again. Don't! I do feel I am superior to you because you are racists, and I am not.

Burnt-out cars in Paris: didn't anyone see it coming?

Last year, I had an interesting conversation with a young Harvard-educated lawyer from Cameroun. He was the son of a famous politician, but decided to shuck the comforts of his father's political legacy and try to make it on his own in the world.

His first stop after his Harvard doctor of jurisprudence degree was Paris, where he tried to enter the corporate world on the strength of his qualifications. He said, "the racism is so subtle. They'll never tell you that they won't hire you because you're black, but it's obvious because...look at my qualifications". Yet, despite the protests of his family to come back home, he went to the US, where the situation wasn't much better. He ended up in Australia doing more research and becoming even more over-qualified.

That conversation took place a year ago, and I think that it's why I wasn't so shocked at the Paris riots. From what this young man had told me, I felt that France had it coming.

The roots of the French riots, as reported by Peter Ford of the Christian Science Monitor, is based on this unspoken but deeply felt social division based on nationality and ethnicity. When I read of a social experiment into the problem, I recalled the Barbara Gloudon/Antoinette Haughton-Cardenas talk show conversations, in which people would complain about how they could not get jobs because of their addresses in certain Kingston communities. One of my lecturers at university told me how his hospital would refuse to hire people from certain addresses in downtown Kingston because the employees would probably let their friends into the hospital for a robbing spree.

One evening, I was on my way home from a meeting with a group of diplomats and the head of a government agency, who was giving me a lift home, told me that he never imagined that a person who was doing a Master's at UWI would live in my neighbourhood. He advised me to move to Mona, as it would be a better fit for my image. Another man asked me to adjust my resume because the things I've achieved by the time I hit my mid-twenties didn't look possible for someone that came from my neighbourhood. To add injury to the insult, he asked me to open my mouth so he could stick his wet, clammy tongue down my throat.

These two people hurt my feelings by what they said, but felt justified. What do you do when older, powerful and more influential men tell you that you should be ashamed of where you live? Move out of your home? Find a rich boyfriend to pay your rent?

One of my former friends did the latter, because she had ended up being neighbours with a prince charming who rescued her from poverty and too much pride. She ended up aborting his baby and having a brawl with his wife, whom he has never divorced. He left her for her cousin, who he said was more "fun".

I also had a lot of pride, but I decided that I would leave Jamaica. In protest, I vowed I would never come back.

What was wrong with my address anyway? I came from a good neighbourhood but apparently it was too far from Jacks Hill, Smoky Vale and Cherry Gardens, where my friends resided.

Below is the section I picked up from the Christian Science monitor. Sounds just like what has been happening in Jamaica for so many years. We are ashamed of our poverty ("poverty sucks!" as Rolls Royce advert puts it), so instead of acting proactively to end the social injustice, like saying "no, it's not fair", we take what other people have. Sadly, we take innocent lives as the spoils of war.

You see, Jamaica, the world's murder capital is no different from Paris over the past two weeks. Pent up anger about social oppression has to be expressed somehow. In Jamaica, there is robbery, rape and murder. In Paris, young men burn cars and fight with the police. I wonder which actions will cause social change in the end?

"Working class suburbs have become ethnic ghettos," says Marc Cheb Sun, who edits "Respect," a magazine aimed mostly at young black and North African readers. "That is the origin of the problem." And it is not easy for even ambitious young people to break out if they come from a district with a bad reputation, as Jean-Francois Amadieu, a university professor who founded the "Discrimination Observatory" discovered in experiments over the past year.

He sent out fictitious applications for sales jobs, allegedly coming from six different sorts of applicant, ranging from a white male to a woman of North African origins, all with the same résumé. Applicants writing from addresses known to be in "difficult" areas received half as many invitations to an interview as those from less notorious districts. The "North African" male candidate received five times fewer invitations than his white counterpart.

Invidia

Latin Lyrics by Thomas Pflanz for Lesiem, Auracle/Times
English Prose text by Shaggy's girl for The Former Jamaican

Invidia Vipera Vipera
Carmina Invidiae
Quo Plura Habent Eo Ampliora Cupiunt

Early this morning, I went to my favourite spot for a BASE jump/free climb, even though I had a high fever. It was about 4 degrees on the ground. I went out there because I wanted to make one last autumn splat.

As I was checking my parachute, one of my team mates recalled an accident he had witnessed in Australia, and said how important it was never to skip the safety checks before diving off the cliff. For someone who has suicidal hobbies, I'm exceedingly paranoid, so I was sure that I would always check. I made it to the bottom of the gorge alive, again.

Clawing my way up the cliffside, I remembered a recent conversation with a close friend. I told her that Jamaican people are generally inconsistent. It's the one thing I can predict about them. In an earlier post, I alluded to it with respect to technology. We Jamaicans set out to do something, and we're gung-ho about it, but we sometimes quit in the middle.

I doubted this conclusion because I thought, well, how can a nation of people be inconsistent? But it has been nagging me for years now because I've never been able to put a name to the problem.

Then I remembered years ago, the gas riots, when UWI students were tear gassed during a demonstration. On telly, Prime Minister Patterson seemed rather bored with the guild of students, and I couldn't help feeling how shameful it was for this man to treat the students as if they had no right to sit with him in the first place.

It could have been our finest hour. But nothing happened. Except for one Chinese businessman who decided to liquidate his assets in Jamaica and return to Hong Kong. He would have stayed if we had fought it out to the bitter end. But we gave up after a few days. He didn't think that this was such a good environment for a new investment. I'm sure no one noticed. I did, because I was engaged to him, but I decided not to follow him.

At about the same time, there was a friend of mine from the US who invested $10 Million in some agricultural property in St. Thomas, only to arrive here and find that the soil was barren. JAMPRO officials told him that he shouldn't complain about the money because he is obligated to invest in Jamaica, as a returning resident. I knew where his $10 Million went. It went through the pockets of an alcoholic JAMPRO executive (whom I also knew at the time). He was blowing $200,000 at a time on suits and holding up Air Jamaica planes on the tarmac at Palisadoes. He lost his mind when his bisexual wife threw him out of the house and changed the locks.

Qui Invidet Minor Est
Parvum Parva Decent
Qui Invidet Minor Est
Adsidua Eminentis
Fortunae Comes
Invidia, Invidus

Years before all this, there was Shaggy's girl, at 19 years old. I was sent a very rudely worded letter saying that I had overdrawn my current account at a certain financial institution. I looked at the name on the document and saw that it was the same as mine, but I knew that the account did not belong to me. A customer service representative checked the account, and found out that the bank had made a mistake.

Being a feisty teenager, I wrote a letter to the bank's head of accounts, to remind her that I didn't get an apology for the embarrassment. She invited me to her office and let me know that I was lower than her and that I had no right to address letters to her. Her colleague, an assistant vice president, was also kind enough to reprimand me for my behaviour. Needless to say, although they made a mistake, they did not apologise to me even though they were obligated to do so. Why no apology? I was too young to appreciate it, or so they thought.

Beatius Est Magis
Dare Quam Accipere

What do all of these snippets have to do with "consistency"?

The shame tree. Shame is what causes us to retreat. Let's say we take one step of progress. The moment we confront some difficulty, or challenge, we stare at our hands, palms facing up. We stare at our hands as if to say "is this really me, am I really standing up for myself"?

Soon after, we continue to feel ashamed because people taunt us by saying things like "you don't know your place", "watch it", "you're nobody", "a wheh dah gyal deh feva?". What's worse is when someone asks: "who are you?" Then you are forced to describe your position in the social order and explain why you're violating the social rules that were carefully set out for you to follow. The next question they ask is, why are you the one to change the social rules? By whose authority?

The most insulting is the condescending tone in which people congratulate your ability as if to say, "you made it this far in spite of the fact that you're black". A black man wrote it in a book he gave to me as a gift, and a white man put it in a letter of recommendation that I asked him to write for me.

I understood the value of standing up for myself when I was 8, and noticed the discrepancy between rules for the straight-haired suck-finger-jack and her woolly-haired classmates who just needed a little more time to finish their classwork.

When I was 8 years old, I asked my homeroom teacher "Miss Gray, how come you never slap Dottie with your ruler? Is it because she has straight hair?" Dottie was of Indian/African descent and sucked her forefinger all day until it turned green. Even at that age, I knew that Miss Gray was being unfair to the rest of us, but I couldn't understand why. Miss Gray said "no", but couldn't give me a reason for the different rules. Still, she kept hitting my classmates with her ruler when they didn't get long division problems correct.

Dottie wasn't a bright spark, but Miss Gray never challenged her to study, so she never bothered. Later, during high school, she harboured these notions that her straight hair accorded her some privileged status, and became ashamed of her parents for being working class people. She also nurtured the unrealistic expectation that she would automatically qualify to become a doctor. When I graduated UWI, Dottie was still in first year of Nat Sci, although she started university a year before I did. I'm blaming Miss Gray's programming for that needless waste of time.

Being consistent in standing up for myself has been difficult. I've been teased, ostracised, held back, and ridiculed. When I threw myself off the cliff this morning, I realised that I could never have chosen this hobby if I were the sort of person to plea-bargain in the face of adversity. Compared to the anguish of being bullied and told to shut up, the danger of sliding off the rocks and breaking my neck at the bottom of a cold, stony gorge suddenly seemed so funny. I wedged myself in a crevice and laughed as hard as I could.

I was through with being intimidated.

Dream spillage

Last night, I had an erotic dream about a middle-aged male colleague with wobbly legs, buck teeth and an ill-advised combover. I wouldn't normally find him attractive because he's always with male friends, and he boasts about treating his wife like crap. This was not a person I speak to on a regular basis, and he usually seems distressed when he has to speak to me. So I was shocked when he appeared in my dream...

In the dream we were lying together on the same bed, in a dormirtory full of other undesirable men. He looked into my eyes with the most seductive look a guy with a combover could muster, rolled me on my side and had intercourse with me very quietly--no grunting.

I remember thinking, "where are the contraceptives". (My erotic dreams always get interrupted over contraceptives, as if you could get an STD in your sleep). The sex didn't feel bad at all, but it was over in a millisecond. Then, when he rolled off me, suddenly all the men in the room threw off their blankets and rushed for the door, as if they were awakened by an alarm. I remember feeling embarrassed that people were waiting for us to finish having sex before getting up.

The dream wasn't the problem.

The most bizarre thing happened this morning. Mr. Combover made a presentation at my first meeting, and while I was looking casually in his direction, he intentionally gives me this knowing look that said: "you slut". It was the same look I saw in my dream! He had this silly, taunting grin every time our eyes met. Needless to say, I had a guilty look on my face all morning. I was so paranoid! What the hell was going on?

I've never had an affair with a colleague before, but I imagine that this is how people feel the morning after an unscheduled sexual encounter. Uneasy, embarrassed and unable to look at each other.

I'm glad it didn't actually happen.

Bad company: Who are your friends?

Tommy Kimpton, a 19-year-old Briton is now on trial for murdering his best friend with a pool cue. He had been teased about being fat and big-eared. He said that his friend was only nice to him when other people were around:

“When we were on our own he was brilliant. He would let me talk about my problems — but as soon as we were in a group he would take the piss and always put me down.”

Tearfully recalling the fatal attack in his bedroom, he told the jury: “I said, ‘Why do you always wind me up?’ He said, ‘We don’t really mean it. I didn’t realise it upset you so much’. ”

But immediately after saying this, his tormentor started laughing.

Bullying is a serious issue, but people don't realise how badly they can hurt others with words. I can identify with Tommy's feelings because the same thing happened to me so often. I'm a loner now, not by choice, but because I feel that people would rather condemn me than try to understand me.

The peer pressure blog entry I made a few days ago was about that. I know two girls and a guy who are so nice to me when we're talking alone, but as soon as they are with a group of people, they would pick on me. My mother used to do that with one of my boyfriends. Another boyfriend used to tease me about how I behaved in bed, just because he knew it would piss me off. He was so stupid because I actually dumped him, and six years later when I decided to give him a chance, he did it again. This time, I talked to him like I would one of my clients and I actually felt sorry for him because I knew he felt bad.

I think I have been teased about every single thing that there is to be teased about. It's NOT okay for people to tease you, or to tell you what's wrong with you.

It's wrong to bully people, so unlike Tommy, who stuck with his friends, I kept these people at a distance, or cut them off completely.

Three to six years ago, I remember how the two girls and the guy used to sit together with some other Jamaican low lifes and say that I was stuck-up, and a snob. One girl tried to sabotage a new relationship of mine because she didn't have a boyfriend at the time.

Six years later, today, the two girls and the guy are all clients of mine, as I'm helping them recover from complete mental and physical breakdown. They left Jamaica to seek me out and saw that there were people who love, respect, and trust me. They were incredulous, maybe thinking that this was all a joke. After all, they know me by my flaws, not my redeeming qualities. And I'm black, and not of mixed race. How did they feel after entering my world? Envy. Jealousy. Instead of moving ahead from that point, we ended up right where we began.

In return for my advice, one of my "clients" let me know that he was sorry for me because I was too ambitious, and that my ambition would destroy me. Shortly afterwards, he came to ask me for a big favour that saved his career. He has since flown over the cuckoo's nest. He declared to me that he is God, and has decided that he is such a genius that only an obeah man can give him meaningful "spiritual advice". My advice means nothing to him because he sees me as a woman who wants to control his mind and body. I don't think his revived career will be of much use to him.

Another one told me I was a failure because I am voluntarily celibate. She is still express-fucking the man who smashed her ribs, broke her nose, screwed her sister and who exposed himself to HIV. Why? It's "too long to wait" to meet a man who will respect her.

I don't want to have anything to do with these tiresome people. They're unkind to me when other people are around, but so endearing when they get in trouble and need my help. The fact is, the nature of my work doesn't allow me to treat people with prejudice.

Sometimes I wish I could punish them for all the pain they put me through. I guess that coming back to me for help is punishment enough.