Island Soul City Dreams

I reflect. I analyze. I speak my mind. ~ I Keep it Irie ~

Archive for the category “Roots & Culture”

Journey Beyond Paradise

As the holiday cheer heightens and the countdown to 2013 draws near, I find myself reflecting on my journey from Barbados to New York and the remarkable progress I’ve made over these past few years. I first wrote about the start to what has become an incredible chapter in my life during my Magazine Workshop – a capstone class in the master’s degree I earned at Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. The class was taught by editor extraordinaire of The New Yorker, John Bennet, who had assigned us to write personal essays. For me, sharing this particular slice of my life was somewhat cathartic. My classmates and I read to one another our respective stories – all of which portrayed some challenge we had to overcome. Almost every narrative evoked tears. Today, I’ll expand my audience beyond the classroom to include you. This piece is an excerpt from the book I have yet to complete on my life story. I’d love to hear your feedback.

At the start of 2005, my life seemed almost perfect. I was living in my native Barbados, the easternmost of Caribbean islands where rejuvenating breezes cascade off the Atlantic Ocean. All year the sun kisses us a brilliant good morning and bids adieu with even more radiance as it sinks beyond horizons of white sand beaches and crystal clear blue waters. I was about to celebrate my 30th birthday on January 30 – a date shared with my younger sister who came screaming into this world the day I turned 4-years-old. She remains my best birthday gift ever. I was working as a reporter – the career I’d dreamt about from the age of 13 and I had an adoring boyfriend who’d lift me over a puddle of water into the car just so I wouldn’t soil my shoes. To top it off, every week, my mother baked my favorite treat – coconut bread – for which I’d travel for miles through narrow unpaved tracks in the lush, rural countryside of Barbados. It was looking like my best year yet. Read more…

Surviving Thanksgiving Alone

An African American family celebrating Thanksgiving. Courtesy Corbis Images

It’s challenging when drowning in depression to rise above it and focus on reasons to be thankful. This is my ninth consecutive Thanksgiving in the US, although 10 in total and one would figure by now I’d be over the sadness that comes with spending such holidays by myself. I’d always envisioned that if by this age I were still living here, I’d be happily married with a family of my own and finally truly celebrating Thanksgiving. But as the sun sets on another Thanksgiving Day, I’m like McCaulay Culkin in that 1990 top draw comedy, “Home Alone” except there’s no laughter being derived from within my four walls – only tears. Living in a foreign country away from all my relatives and closest friends is especially felt on days like today. Read more…

Dealing With Bitches

I have a love-hate relationship with bitches. And trust me, I have met and know many a bitch. When it comes to my love for a bitch, I’m referring to two things: First is the standard Webster’s or the Oxford English Dictionary definition, “a female dog” and second, is a slang meaning, “a thing that one has conquered or mastered.” As for the bitch I hate, I’ll use a definition that’s both standard and slang, “an unpleasant female” or “something unpleasant.”

I’ve been dealing with a bitch of some type all year. Read more…

City of Blinding Lights

I spend a considerable amount of time by myself. In fact, I do most things by myself. Whether it’s going for a run or reading and doing New York Times’ crosswords in the park, working out at the gym, going to the museum, or staying at home watching Netflix, and cooking big Sunday dinners after church, I do it alone. For the most, this is not by choice, but it’s often very therapeutic. It has allowed me to really grow to know myself, to be introspective, reflective, to find holistic ways to entertain myself, to be focused. Above all, it has taught me to find my own happiness, how to be happy with, by and about myself. Read more…

Even If It Hurts, Give It To Me

As a child, I was a most voracious reader. I grew up in an era where Enid Blyton fairy tales and Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys mysteries were the rave among my peers. I often found escape in the fascinating world of make-belief created by Blyton, where with the wave of a magic wand, life was made perfect. In the aforementioned mysteries, my curiosity was stimulated along the passage with the young sleuths. I would always piece together clues to try to figure out, “whodunit” before the plot was fully revealed. But the stories that captivated me most were non-fiction. I had a special love for history and committing to memory key facts, figures, dates, events and people who shaped the world in which I was growing up. Read more…

Feels Like I’m Home Again

“Raga Beenie children fall in line.” – Anthony “Rebel” Bailey

I officially retired from the party scene in 2006 – after almost 20 years of partying and more than a decade of covering entertainment as a reporter. Considering my now ripe old mid 30’s age, some might say that I retired young. Those who knew me in my prime party days growing up in Barbados knew that I was in the dub (Reggae/Dancehall party) from as early as 14 years and in the Calypso tents and nightclubs from a couple years after. My “Uncle Mac” – Mac Fingall, one of the Caribbean’s top emcees, introduced me to the calypso tents and for many years took me to countless performances during our annual carnival known as Crop Over Festival. Even before then, I was already a fan of Calypso and its “offspring” Soca  music. Read more…

Proud of Our Caribbean Athletes: Deal Wid It

Jamaica’s World Record 4x100m relay team.

I am unapologetically patriotic to the Caribbean – the region where my grandparents, parents, most of my relatives, closest friends, and I were born. But I love this country in which I live and the opportunities it has afforded me, both to develop in every sphere of my life and to contribute to this nation. I am beyond grateful for the blessings that have flowed along my arduous journey since moving to New York almost a decade ago. It’s a place where I have no relatives, a destination I emigrated to from Barbados with nothing more than a dream to further my education and advance my career as a journalist. I began life anew in this big city with my last penny in my pocket and my haven, the only life I knew – thousands of miles away on a tiny island in the heart of the Caribbean Sea.

Having to stand on my own in a foreign country has made me stronger and more appreciative of the hurdles I have had to overcome to reap my current successes. This experience has also done something else. It has instilled in me a deep passion for this City and by extension country. Interestingly enough, more than ever it has also made me cherish my heritage – the background that honed the spirit, the character and warrior to stay grounded here. The more I embrace US culture, the harder I fight to cling to my Caribbean roots. So as the Games of the XXX Olympiad got underway, like most West Indians on and beyond Caribbean shores, my loyalty was to our athletes. Read more…

The Prince That Really Was A Frog

I was recently betrayed in the worst way by someone I trusted and about whom I cared deeply. It was such a hurtful ordeal, that for a couple of weeks, I blocked out the “world” and retreated to a sanctum of depression. Well, initially, it was utter depression; drowning in a sea of self-pity, beating myself up about what I could have done differently, wondering where I went wrong and asking the perennial question, “why me?” I was in dire emotional turmoil, almost beyond consolation. At such times, there are perhaps only two people in the world who can break that barrier to help me see any silver lining. It was inevitable that I’d reach out to them. But amidst all the storms of my life, I’ve always been able to find that inner strength, or, maybe it’s my faith to which I turn to begin to feel that calm. I’d end up doing so once again. Read more…

I Am Going To A Sperm Bank

His text message floored me. “So when are we going to have a baby?” he asked. This was a few weeks ago and I thought to myself, “Is this negro seriously broaching this topic in a text message?” I responded with the customary “Lol” when one has nothing constructive to say (at nothing particularly funny). But my curiosity got the better of me, so I asked him if he was serious about having a child with me. He claimed he’d mentioned this to me a couple of times before and this was the last time he was addressing the matter. Read more…

Not Me And Dat Eating Thing

My dear friend Hazel in Barbados often says: “When it comes to eating, I ent busy!” Like her, I feel the same. Well, for the most. I’m not a greedy girl and don’t accept service from any and everybody, but I do enjoy some good eating. Anyone who knows me is aware of my passion for the culinary arts and I’m especially thrilled when I meet a man that’s equally passionate. There are a few things as sexy as a man versed in this area. Ever since my first boyfriend showed off his amazing skills on me and served up the most mind-blowing treat, I have been sold on the idea that when it comes to eating, I’d rather relax and let a guy do the work. Read more…

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