Island Soul City Dreams

I love New York, but my heart has a Caribbean beat. It pulsates to the traditions of my people. Attuned to the rhythms of this City, I stay West Indian to the bone. I reflect. I analyze. I speak my mind. ~ I Keep it Irie ~

Archive for the tag “Relationships”

Harold Hoyte: Heart Of The Nation Barbados, Thank You, RIP


Harold Hoyte, Co-founder, Editor Emeritus, Nation newspapers, Barbados (Left) and Nation reporters Maquita Peters (center) and Haydn Gill at the Nation’s 25th anniversary celebrations in 1998. Hoyte died on Sunday, May 12, 2019, at age 78.

This is the only photo I have of Harold Hoyte, co-founder, former editor-in-chief and editor emeritus of The Nation Publishing Ltd, Barbados and me, along with former colleague, Haydn Gill.

Despite just this one image, taken in 1998, when I was a rookie reporter at the Nation newspaper, I have countless moments and memories with Harold — a giant of a journalist and man despite his small stature.

My heart broke today when my mother gave me the news that my former boss — to this day, the best I’ve ever had — died at age 78.

I’m crying as I write this post.

Last month while in Barbados, I tried my utmost to see Harold one last time as I heard he was terribly ill and seemingly on his deathbed. His daughter Tracy was the sweetest in expressing her gratitude but explained that he was simply not up to visitors. I told her how much I appreciate him and to give him a hug for me.

In my years at the Nation — and those who knew me then know the traumatic experience I endured during that time — Harold was there for me. He gave me permission to come to his office anytime, to let my tears flow in there, to feel free to talk to him about anything.

I recall from my early assignments at the Nation, when I barely had confidence in my reporting and writing how Harold would come to me in the newsroom and say, “Peters, you took me there,” in reference to my coverage on the entertainment beat.

He’d break down why my story resonated with him, and consistently encouraged me to keep up the good work. If I covered an event and he didn’t stop by my desk to say I took him there, I knew I had to do better next time. I continued to hone my skills.

Soon enough, it became the norm for him to pay his usual compliment.

Years later after I’d left the Nation newspaper and Barbados for the U.S., Harold and I remained in touch. Every now and then we’d speak by phone from my New York apt to his home in St. George, Barbados, and I’d visit him almost every Christmastime in my early years going home for the holidays.

When I graduated with my masters from Columbia University, he reached out to congratulate me, to tell me how proud he was of my journey, and me. A few months later he wrote the most amazing letter of recommendation to help me gain employment here in the U.S.

I last saw and socialized with Harold Hoyte in 2014 in my beloved Brooklyn when he came to speak at an event to promote his book, “Eyewitness to Order and Disorder.” I attempted to buy a copy but he wouldn’t have it, gifting me one instead with an autograph acknowledging our professional and personal relationship.

Harold always was and will be special to me. I’m grateful for all he was and did for me. My condolences to his family, circle of loved ones, and the entire Caribbean journalism fraternity. May our beloved Harold in Rest In Peace and rise in glory. 🌹🙏🏾


Cover of Harold Hoyte’s book, “Eye Wtness to Order and Disorder,” a copy of which he gifted Maquita Peters.


Harold Hoyte autographed a copy of his book, “Eye Witness to Order and Disorder” to Maquita Peters.

~ I Keep it Irie ~

Tinder Dating Tales: The Man Who Stood Me Up Because … You Have To Hear This


This guy right here stood me up; first time in my life that happened to me. And what a bogus excuse he had! 

DMV FOLKS: Any of y’all know/recognize this dude? I want to know exactly who he is. These are two photos from his Tinder profile that indicate he’s 8 miles from Downtown DC, NW.

He’d been communicating with me for a week and after insisting that we meet up, invited me out to dinner at 6 p.m. yesterday. He chose the place and set the time and said he looked forward to seeing me.

Would y’all know, I left the warmth and comfort of my fabulous apartment on my precious day off from work, got all dressed up and according to the folks at the concierge in my building, I looked, “Absolutely gorgeous,” and this negro NEVER showed up?! I contacted him, no answer. I actually even gave him a 15-minute grace period. He never showed, never reached out. Certainly, I thought, “This brother must have suffered some grave misfortune and is in a hospital somewhere. Heck, he must be dead.”

After living on this wonderful earth for all these glorious years, at this ripe age of “25” years (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it), yesterday was (and I hope remains) the first and only time I’ve ever been stood up. I wasted a great outfit, my damn fine smelling fragrance, not to mention my effort in traveling to the location. So yeah, I need to know who is this basic dude, this loser, this less than a man who’d do this ish to this queen.

Best part, he just sent a text at 10 a.m. – 16 hours after he didn’t show up. Y’all believe this, a text, saying yesterday he heard his aunt was sick and he went to visit her, not knowing I’d be waiting at the restaurant. Wta! He invites a woman out, confirms it and then says he didn’t know she’d be there?!

I sure as heck don’t want his wack azz, but let me get a moment in person to rip him a brand new one!

~ I Keep it Irie ~

My friends have been asking to write about my Tinder dating experiences. So I finally decided to and this is the first I’m sharing via this medium. I’ll try to keep them short. Check back here for more.



Men, Please Stop Calling Women Hot

Hot Blog

In my book, it’s not physical attributes that truly make someone “hot.” 

About a year ago, I came across a video on my Facebook timeline of Nigel Hayes, then 20, and a sophomore forward for the Wisconsin Badgers, where he was caught in a slightly embarrassing situation. Well, I thought it was cute. But he, having realized that what he thought he’d said in secret to fellow players during a press conference was actually relayed over the microphone, quickly covered his face.

Hayes had spotted a stenographer for ASAP Sports, 40-something Debra Bollman, and was so enamored by her, he whispered to his teammates, “God, she’s beautiful.”

As I browsed through the comment thread, I noticed several people — both males and females — echoing exactly how I felt about his actions. And as I revisited the video in preparation for writing this post, I reviewed the comments on YouTube, again seeing responses that captured my take on the incident. One commenter, The XXI, puts it as thus: “Man I gotta take the habit to say “God she’s beautiful,” instead of “God damn she’s f**king hot.”

Yes, I love that Hayes’ instinctive response was to say beautiful and not hot. It comes across as if he were describing the entire person, inside and out, although it doesn’t appear that he knew Bollman personally. It comes across as if he saw her as a complete woman and not merely as an object of sexual attraction. Young Hayes came over as genuine, sweet, appreciative of the woman before him, respectful. What especially appealed to me is that he didn’t sound “thirsty.”

I hate it when men sound thirsty. I hate it when a man calls me hot, especially when I don’t know him and even more so if it’s a man who claims to be seriously interested in courting me. No men, I don’t want you to call me hot. I find it neither flattering nor does it validate my sex appeal, nor who or what I am as a woman. Were a man for example, to say he finds my intelligence, wit, industrious nature, fortitude and other intangible attributes hot, that, I would find complimentary.

Some men don’t get this. They think that because they tell a woman she’s hot, she should simply accept what they deem the “compliment” and move on. Men like Marco. I dated Marco on and off for a two-year period a few years ago before and during grad school while living in New York City. He was a lot of things I adored, but never ready for a committed relationship. So over time, I stopped communicating with him. I recently moved to Washington, D.C., and as it turns out, Marco beat me to it by a few months. We reconnected virtually and he invited me out to dinner to, in his words, “welcome you to D.C.”

It was delightful reconnecting with Marco. I remembered all the reasons why I’d liked and dated him, from his smarts to his inimitable sense of humor, ambition, his overall magnetic charm and yes, to keep it real, his enthralling physical attributes. We discussed our history and evaluated why “we” didn’t work as a couple before, our current respective relationship statuses and goals and we concluded that the time was ripe for us to give it another shot. A real shot this time.

I made it clear that a solely physical relationship was the furthest thing on my mind, that obviously that type of interaction will become a reality once I’m committed to someone, but at present it’s not what I seek. Marco said he was on the same page with me, that he wanted to court me, to date me, that he wanted for us to truly become one, for us to get married and have children. That from hence forth, he’ll be working toward that. For once, he sounded serious and I took him that way.

The next day, he practically disappeared, citing he’d been very busy on the job. I too had been busy at work, but had reached out. I decided to not sweat it and just responded cordially to his text which came at the end of the day. The following day out of the blue, he texts, “You’re hot.” No “Good day, how are you,” or “Have a great day,” or “Let’s plan to meet up again.” His message totally turned me off. I’m not saying he’s thirsty. He has no reason to be. But he sounded thirsty, purely carnal and I didn’t feel flattered.

I told him all this and explained that had he said something like, “Hi beautiful,” that would have come over as more appreciative of the whole me. I further explained that if he’s as serious as he claimed to be about building something with me that he needs to understand and respect my position on this matter. That whether his intention was “pure,” that I don’t like to be addressed in that manner. Marco disappeared for more than two weeks, no response, no returned calls, nothing.

When I finally heard from him, he argued that it was fine for him to act carnal merely because we had a dating history and that I was irrational in my response to his comment. No consideration was given to the fact that his comment did not sit well with me and why. It especially did not work for me because no, he wasn’t saying hot in the sapiosexual sense and no, that’s not what I want to hear from a man who’s trying show me he’s serious about being serious in pursuing me.

What exacerbates the situation is the fact that he disappeared after I’d voiced my opinion, instead of having an adult conversation on the matter. To me, that further makes the point that it’s not me the person – inside and out- he was trying to get close to, but me the “hot” object of his sexual attraction. Do I think I’m hot? I’m hot alright, hot as in mad that some grown men don’t get that some of us grown women don’t find it hot that you call us hot.

~ I Keep it Irie ~


I am Enough

For a moment there

You made me doubt my worth.

I thought I wasn’t good enough for you;

Thought I was too short, too small

Too poor, too un-American

Too unaccomplished, too unattractive

Thought I had the wrong job,

The wrong dreams, the wrong goals

That nothing I am or have could measure up

To your ideals and expectations.

I thought I wasn’t enough.


You said I wasn’t your only one

And you had no such plans for me,

Your revelations were devastating.

I wondered how to change your mind,

Thought I needed to do things differently,

That I had to be a better me.

I agonized over it, cried over it,

Became consumed with it

“Why doesn’t he want me?”

I thought about it, prayed about it.

“How could I be enough?’


Soon enough I got the answer,

A reminder:  I am enough.

All five feet two inches, 120 pounds of me,

Forged by faith, fortitude, sentimentality,

A sharp mind, selfless spirit, indomitable will

And a heart overflowing with love,

I am enough.

Enough beauty inside and out,

Enough smarts, passion, enough ambition,

Enough empathy, enough loyalty.

I am enough.


I’m enough of the things

That make me wonderfully uniquely me.

Nurturing enough, sweet enough,

Witty enough, sarcastic enough,

Enough of a talker, dreamer, crier, writer,

A big enough smile, big enough personality

Enough of all a woman needs to be;

Homemaker, professional, supporter,

A listener, friend, daughter, sister, aunt,

I am enough as a lover, a mother, a wife,

As a faithful servant of God,

I am enough.

Heck, I am more than enough.

by Maquita “Queenie” Peters

~ I Keep it Irie ~

For Larry’s nephew A3. 

I am enough.

I am enough.

You’re An Enigma


Why can’t I get over you?

Despite everything,

I miss u like crazy!

A day doesn’t go by

Without thoughts of you.

I get mad sometimes

When I think of the hurt you caused

Deserting me when I needed you most.

I tell myself you’ve given me

More than enough reasons

To let go, move on and forget you.

But inexplicably, I’m still in love with you.

To my chagrin I admit,

I love you unconditionally.

It’s like you stole my heart from day one

And I’ve been fighting a losing battle

Ever since to retrieve it!

I want to and need to let you go!

I’ve tried with all my being.

I’ve prayed that you be

A distant memory, if any at all.

I’ve sought every measure of distraction

Compiled all your heartless actions

To fuel animosity toward you.

I’ve struggled to forgive you

As you’ve proven yourself

Less than human and unworthy

Of my friendship and love.

Yet though my head screams, “Let go”

My heart says, “I’m all for you.”

Why can’t I let go?

-by Maquita “Queenie” Peters

~ I Keep it Irie ~



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