Jamaica: Which of your worlds do I belong?

I’ve been thinking about moving back to Jamaica. The thought has been an ongoing one, like the constant knocking of a woodpecker making a hole in a tree outside my window. There are days when I’d wake up yearning, wondering what life would be like back home. I was still a child when I left. Sixteen. Therefore, I don’t know what adulthood feels like there.

Many Jamaicans, especially those of the lower middle-class have been socialized to believe that America is better. In fact, with looming poverty and social inequalities that plague parts of the island, it’s no surprise that if given the opportunity a lot of those Jamaicans would jump ship. A recent visit there in my old neighborhood in Kingston showed me a glimpse of what life would look like without opportunities. I ran into acquaintances from the primary school I attended and some of them have college degrees, yet they work as security guards, secretaries, odd jobs that are simply helping their parents to pay rent and put food on the table as they struggle to make ends meet for their own family. Some of them are still waiting to hear back from job interviews as their student loan bills from UWI fill their mailbox. In their slow, languid movements and long faces drawn into constant frowns, I suspected that the heat isn’t the only thing weighing them down. I saw a complacence that reminded me of cows swinging their tails while chewing on grass in a nearby pasture. But from the way their eyes lit up, the fleeting flames drawing me closer when I got them to start talking about their passions and what they hope to do with it when they apply for visas, I can tell that somewhere inside they’ve been preserving all their energy to live life outside the small island.Meanwhile, on the other side of the island in the far reaches of the hills surrounding Kingston is a world I’ve gotten closer to through education and travel; a world that I used to catch glimpses of in high school but never thought the people in that world knew about the working class to even care about such a thing as social inequality. It’s a world where I now fit in, still feeling like an outsider nonetheless; looking inside with the wide eyes of that child I left behind, her shadow shrinking the more I grow into a woman. Had she seen me now, she would've shied away in awe, would've given me a toothless smile as I wave goodbye to her.

Now I can be gay and out in this world, just as long as I stick to the right circles and hang out in the right places; it is a world in Jamaica that would embrace me and my partner with open arms; a beautiful, pampered, private world where I would return as a prodigal daughter and my partner, an expat and live freely like those other expats I read about: the couple who decided to move to Jamaica last year from the US and built a bed and breakfast, which is now very successful; the lesbian couple who has a villa where tourists come and stay and who have gotten great reviews as one of the top vacation spots in Jamaica; the woman who quit her job in finance and moved back to Jamaica to become a full time yoga instructor. She lives in the mountains and breathes in the fresh air each day. I can bet she isn’t missing New York.
Of course, the mental disposition of Jamaicans who decide to make this drastic move back home has been questioned by other Jamaicans. “What’s there for you?” they may ask. “Don’t you see that America is the land of opportunity?” If only they understand that there are so many aspects of Jamaican living. There are Jamaicans living in Jamaica right now who make more than a social worker or a teacher makes here. In fact, sometimes I find myself wondering which is better, the institutional and sometimes blatant racism (especially when it comes to people’s reaction to Obama in office) in America that has no cure or the homophobia in Jamaica (which is not really a problem if you’re in the right circles)? I’d choose Jamaica. Perhaps I’m delusional, but from where I sit, I see potential back home. This potential may not be obvious to the classmates who I went to primary school with, the ones who feel stuck where they are; but it is obvious to me, someone who has had many opportunities elsewhere yet still feel an affinity to the country, an affinity that I can now afford to have (minus student loans). Key word here for happiness in Jamaica is “money”, lots of it. The government might be shady and crime might be high, but take a step back and notice the people who aren’t complaining. Last year May when the search for Dudus took full effect, inciting the violence in Down Town Kingston, I noticed on facebook there were people “liming” on the beach, taking photos or just talking about the weather. The first question I asked myself was: “Where in the world are they? Are they in Jamaica? Do they know what's happening beyond the smokey vale of clouds surrounding the hills they live on?”

I realize now that the world where I came from in Jamaica and the world that I now see as a possibility for me there are two separate realms.

© Nicole 2011

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