Alwayne Allen is my name (hence Double A, Eureka!)
I think alotta things, and I like to write them down and share.
Feel free to share too. Politics, Sports, People, Religion; you think it, at some point I'll write about it. I think I'm pretty funny, snarky, sarcastic, the works.
You know you like my blog already.
So you now know of my mild road rage while driving and my desire to destroy all nuisances see improvements by other drivers and pedestrians on the road. While I'm working on getting my Monster Truck and plotting how to graze a few people and not get caught, I'll tell you about my anger regarding Public Transportation. The following is an unpublished letter to the editor I wrote:
While travelling in a coaster bus, the thought came to me, “Fived up again. These bus operators are so hypocritical!” There I was sitting
amidst four other persons, in a row that was made for only 4 total
persons. Being 6’3” certainly didn’t help my predicament either.[Also of note would be the fact that I wasn't Japanese :S]
Only the day before (May 1, 2013) the bus operators were striking because
they said the island’s regulator of public passenger transport, The TransportAuthority, was only allowing them to take 22 persons, when their vehicles were
licenced to carry 29. Yet here I was, asusual, in a bus with about 42 people,
with 5 on the rows and about 10 standing near the door.
May 7, 2013 (BB Pic; sitting on the back row)
Why in God’s name are these operators so wicked and greedy? Yes they
provide a much needed service to the public, but why must commuters sufferand
endure discomfort for them to make extra money? Then, when the law is enforced
they complain and strike, as if they were compliant in the first place!Disgusting!
“Might as well let them strike and let
people use only JUTC buses and taxis,” I thought, but then I remembered
these alternatives aren’t readily accessible or always convenient to all.
A friend said we as commuters are to be blamed—it is true to an extent,
but I don’t totally agree. If people oppose the bus operators’ biddings, they
are usually extricated from the buses; and when they are thrown off by the
conductors, even if they report these occurrences to the Transport Authority, upon
investigation the operators will vehemently deny knowledge of any such thing
and perhaps get off
The very next day on the other side, May 8, 2013
with only a warning.
The bible says in Matthew 7:5— “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your
own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's
eye”.
These bus operators need to consider their ways.
YOU KNOW seh it serious when I an I draw fi a bible text!
Back then, the white slave masters packed our ancestors like
like sardines on ships during the middle passage as you'll
see when you read my friend's letter, and as you should've
known from high school history class. Now, conductors have
reinvented the practice, albeit on a smaller scale.
My friend who I was talking to wrote a ------> brilliant piece on what she likens traveling on the bus to be.
I would get mad and cuss and gwaan bad, but due to how Keneice alluded that most people will just watch and offer no support, mi will gwaan deal wid it, ensuring that I get my seat early, even if it means walking halfway to Portmore to get it! After all, gas just too expensive to drive everyday (without a full time job). Naa tek no stab up from no unruly conductor. I will squeeze up until I can afford not to. Or until I get fed up and just go beserk.
The ageless story of the Good Samaritan found in the Bible Luke 10:25-37
We all know, or have heard at some time or another the story of the "Good Samaritan".
In a nutshell (and Wikipedia expounds on it here), a man got beaten and robbed by thieves and was left for dead. He was a Jew.
Now, two people who should've helped; one a Jewish Rabbi and the other a Priest, simply ignored him. The important context of this story is that Jews and Samaritans were enemies, as Jews saw the Samaritans as scum basically, and looked down upon them. You can remember the story of the Woman at the Wellas she asked Jesus "how is it that you a Jew are talking to me a Samaritan?"
But, as the name of the Parable suggests, a Good Samaritan was the one who stopped to check out this badly injured man and lent a helping hand. Matter of fact, he did way more. He took him to safety, and paid someone to tend to the man. That's love; that's being like Jesus.
Now to my story.
On my way to work today (May 17, 2013), I was properly late; as Chan, my sister, had to go into town for her CSEC exam but wasn't feeling well, so le parents went ahead to work and such, and I had to wait on her to take her into town. On the way, I witnessed something horrific.
I was on the Portmore toll road when I saw it. One four wheeled metal composite smashed into another, causing one to make a complete 180 degree turn, which left it facing the opposite direction of all the other 4 wheeled composites heading that way. Yes, I could've said "cars" but that's too easy.
I exclaimed "My God! Chan you si dat! I just saw it happen enuh!" and right away I was very concerned. Upon reaching the site of the accident, I realized the woman who ran into the back of the man's vehicle (which I came to understand was either parked or had come to a complete stop--which I'm guessing the lady didn't notice and thus the accident), she was okay; airbags and all. But the man? He was not moving. I don't know if it was curiosity or an insatious desire to be helpful, but despite being extremely late, I pulled over, put on my hazard lights and jumped out of the car.
In retrospect I wish I took a picture so you could see how bad it was, but in the moment, pictures were the furthest thing on my mind. Oh, I found one online ----------------------------->
Yeah, that bad. I'm pretty sure both cars were totaled.
Anywho, the lady climbed out of her car quite alright, and some other men who had also stopped, looked at him and said "him dead man, him dead."
I couldn't believe it! I refused to! I went right up and looked at him, and his head was twitching, but his body looked limp. I almost thought he was dead, but then my gaze fell to his abdomen. Up. Down. Up. Down. Slowly but surely, as his stomach rose and fell, I was relieved to see he was alive. I said "No man! Him nuh dead!" and proceeded to show the others that he was breathing. I told him "Hold on man! Hold on! You're gonna be okay! Stay with us!" I whipped out my phone and called 119 and told them the location of the accident and asked for an ambulance. Luckily we had passed a police car moments before so they were on the scene quickly. The men proceeded to help the man--who was shocked out of his life, but moving at this point--out of the car. They laid him out on the road and tried to keep him still. I think he should live; at least I hope he does, even if he has back pain for the rest of his life.
Why tell you this story? Well, I'm proud of me. Proud of the fact that even though I was late for work, I stopped and I did something to help. How many times do we see stuff happen to people, and all we can say is "OH MY GOD!" with mouths agape--but nothing more? How many of us give the iconic line in some situations "I'll pray for you!" when if we looked into ourselves we'd see that we could do soooo much more than just pray?
I digress; sometimes it's not always possible to stop and help, but for the times when we can, how often do we? How many of us would just be like the Priest and Rabbi and continue on our way to work? Probably we'd pop out our camera phones and start taking pics and recording.
I remember this scenario in my Broadcast Management Class at Northern Caribbean University.
One of the best lecturers in my opinion, Mr. Rowan Wade, raised the question: as a media practitioner, at the scene of an accident, what would we do first? Start writing a story or shooting footage? Or would we help first? I think back then I said I would help then do my story. I think it's a question of your personal ethics. I can't answer for anyone or tell you what to do. Can't fault anyone for their choice. You do what you gotta or what you wanna do.
On this day, I was already late for work, so it couldn't be any worse to stop and help. I'm so glad I did. Maybe God allowed me to be late for this reason. I hope the man is okay. Even if (God forbid) he isn't, I can be at peace with myself for trying to do something meaningful for him. Think I've truly found my answer to the question of our personal ethics. After all, we are supposed to be our brother's (or sister's) keeper.
I hate when it rains. Period. It's always so inconvenient. The only time I allow myself to appreciate it is if I'm at home, (preferably in a zinc house) about to go to bed and I'm hearing the heavy drops of water pound on the sheets of metal, creating that oh-so-loud yet oh-so-soothing sound that just makes me just... makes me... make... m...
*Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*
Huh... Oh yes, my rant *stretches*.
But yeah, due to how I'm unmarried, not a plant, nor the Sahara desert, I really don't enjoy the rain. And yes, rain is for married people! Yuh cyaa tell me nuttin. It (rain, not the married people thing!) always happens when I need to go somewhere, I waa play ball, or some outside-ish activity. Just cyaa deal wid it! But you know when it's the worst? While walking on the road. That s#!+ ain't cool.
AT. ALL.
Now I truly understand the wrath of a ghetto man or woman who flings a big stone in s'mady's windshield after being splashed. It's not a smart thing to do, as in this day and age you don't know who will come out of their vehicle and just pop a cap in your @$$ and go back in the vehicle and drive off like nothing happened. But I understand, and t'were it not for the grace of God *hallelu*, I SWEAR. I wudda mash up a man windshield tideh!!! (Today, May 16, 2013)
The image to the left is nothing like how the road usually looks on Maxfield Ave. or Hagley Park Road when it rains in Kingston, but you can clearly see the water near the sidewalk.
WHY THE HELL PEOPLE FEEL SEH DEM MUSS DRIVE FAAS WHEN WATA DEH PAN DI ROAD AND DEM SI PEOPLE A WALK?!
ARE YOU GUYS INVITING US TO HAVE TARGET PRACTICE OR TEST THE ACCURACY OF OUR ARMS WITH YOUR WINDSHIELDS?! IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, IT'S A DAMN. BIG. TARGET!!!
JEEEEEZ! Now I'm not a violent person, and anyone who knows me can vouch for that. I'm not "ignorant", nor do I "get ignorant" on people, and I'm not a supporter of using force to get things accomplished. But the good Lord saw and knew today, that at approximately 3:20P.M. on my way to the Ministry of Transport, Works and Housing, when dat EEEEEEEEDIIIIIAAAAAATTTT driving that white cyaar wet up mi good, good pants, (thank God for little mercies; it was just my pants--but still), I REALLY WISH I had a big stone to fling. If I could have one ignorant moment, that would be it. I would fling my shoulder outta socket to mek sure the windshield buss. And then the man have the NERVE to be looking around at me--I had stopped in my tracks with a pissed off look on my face--with not even a forced apology. He just looked for a while, and drove off. Bet if a half a brick was hurled it wouldn't guh suh.
Merely seconds after, another car zipped past, this time dousing a bicycle man that was going along his way. Fortunately for somebody--not sure which one--there were no stones around and a police vehicle drove past in the same instant, so he perhaps resorted to 7 kinds of clarts.
It's not rocket science. The roads are wet, so people ought to drive with more caution, and look out for persons who weren't gifted with 4-wheeled protection from the elements. Thank God for that one dude who slowed down... or maybe it was 'cause he was approaching a stoplight. I dunno. This is not America though. Splashing someone with dirty water from the roads ain't no peccadilloes! A simple *insert nerdy white voice here* "WTF man?" with mouth agape will not do. These drivers better not try that mess in the ghetto. They'll just hear glass shatter and wonder who or what the hell hit them. I've certainly learned my lesson. I will walk with a large earthen piece of material clearly displayed in my hand next time.
I'd say I'm a fairly green fresh driver. I've been driving without being in daddy's or mommy's lap for about a cumulative total of 1 and 3/4 years.**
**I'm not even gonna pay you any attention if you're wondering if I was sitting in their laps for all the time I was at my current size before I started driving in the big boy seat all by my lonesome. If the thought even crossed your mind, kindly slap yourself. Thank you.
Anywhoooo. I've always prided myself in being a very careful driver. I'm sure my friends will vouch for me. I'm so careful, my parents allowed me to drive to Mandeville from Kingston on my learner's! \o/ (and yes, I had licenced company--I ain't tryna be a law breaker).
My company; my shorter (but older and wiser) sister by another mother--and this may be a compliment and a small insult to me as a man in the same breath--described my driving as a MAN: "He doesn't drive fast, but he doesn't drive slow either."
What the hell? Who wants to drive JUST RIGHT? I'm a man! Man fi drive faaaaaaasss!!!
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! You believe me? *sigh*--you probably shouldn't :/
It's probably true though, I'm pretty cautious and law abiding. So much so, I don't have a story of how I stole the car and went to Burger King while my parents slept. And mommy, if you're reading this blog (as I recently learned you do!) you know seh I would never do that! :D
:( Mi lame nuh true?
I have however gotten 3 tickets... already. Yes. ALL UNWARRANTED. 2 of them because I was black (this is my story and I'm sticking to it!), and the other because I was a rookie driver.
Twas just my luck, the VERY DAY after getting my licence, after driving from Portmore to St. Mary and back, I was literally 30 seconds away from home and some crosses police pulled me over. Perhaps it was because the "L" was still on the car and they saw 4 persons in it and thought they could catch a big break with an unlicenced driver. That wasn't the case. However, before being pulled over, I made a turn at the stoplight on amber, so upon realizing I had a day old licence, they accused me of breaking the red light and gave me a ticket for $4000 JMD. I know I didn't do it, but I didn't even have the will to argue as I was upset from earlier because:
Ticket numero uno
1. I was supposed to play ball and when I got to Andrews, the rim did bruck
2. Some idiot stopped suddenly on the little strip of road connecting Mandela Highway to Portmore and if I wasn't sharp I would have surely had my 1st fender bender.
PLUS, I was tired from driving and I just wanted to go home. I planned to go to court, but then I decided at the last minute to go abroad, and everybody I told said it would be my word against the police's, so I just paid it.
The other incident, a rich looking white man driving a 2012 Benz (in 2012) ran into the back of my cousin's Acura that I was driving in New Jersey on I-78, minutes away from the Newark airport where I was gonna pick him up. Why these things be happening when I almost reach where I going?! To cut a long story short, the police gave me, MEEEE! not one but TWO tickets, for "unsafe lane change" and "driving without a licence" (which was in his hand) and he did not witness the accident. I won't even talk bout how he towed the car and then dropped me off on a street corner in some place I didn't know and left me in the cold. Thankfully God is good, and I went to court and only paid $33USD; only because my flight to come back to JA was already booked and a plea deal was the only way to leave and not risk getting locked up when trying to re-enter the US, because the court dates they had were all after the date of my flight. There's no way I was gonna lose that, cause that was some serious victimization.
Ticket #2 (Now u know what a NJ ticket looks like)
Ticket #3 (BTW A who name "Allen A Channing?! :S)
TIP: Don't drive in New Jersey if:
- You don't have to
- You're black
- You're not American
- or you're conveniently dressed in a hoodie (due to the cold) + you're black
- You plan to get hit in the back of your car by a white person
- (or my favourite) you're black + not American + dressed in a hoodie + driving your cousin's sports car
So yeah, I drive safely, but mi jus salt!
A Suzie look-alike :)
Now to the issue of my road rage: if you've driven with me before, you would hear me in action. My road rage is very mild; I haven't gotten into any roadside fight yet, but I have my piece a board an' two prayer if a man waa try sum'n! But bwoy, Jamaican drivers, specifically taxis annoy the heaven outta me! I wish I drove a big van, with a BIG iron on the front so I could just clobber any unruly driver. Probably that's why God gave me Suzie (my little Subaru Justy). Someone needs to teach dutty, stinking naasi, frowsy, unruly drivers a lesson, and I wish it could be me. My car nuh insure fi tek lick still, so good sense always prevails. One day though, I'll be rich. And when I get there, just watch, mi aguh slap couple a dem offa di road. #OH! because had I had a big vehicle I probably would've hit a couple vehicles by now... big and serious.
Like everyone else, I hate when people a drive and a shine dem bright bright light inna Jah son yeye! Nuh because my car light dem ole' and nuh bright dem feel seh mi muss blind! 'Sas crise man!
****AMMENDMENT****
(Made on 17.5.2013) HOW could I forget?!
My people... My lovely, wonderful people who turn suddenly without indicating, switch lanes suddenly without indicating, or indicate afta unno done mek the turn... There's a special place in hell for all of you. Okay, that's a tad drastic :S But yeah, that's super annoying! I really wish I could fishtail a couple of you and let you spin out of control... When nothing is coming of course *nervous chuckle*
****AMMENDMENT****
LAST ting. People. People. PEOPLE.
HIF HIT WERE NAT FAR DI GRACE OF GOD, I WUDDA SLAP DUNG NUFF A UNNO! JUST. LIKE. THIS!
Why some people feel seh dem muss cross di street pan green light? Eeeeeeeeeh? Dem tink seh dem a cyaar? Dem mek outta metal? Mek dem gwaan y'hear? I waa jus graze a couple a dem, mek dem learn. Chuh man.
WAIT.
I wonder if this will be used against me? Suppose I hit someone by accident one day?
Eeeeeeek! This would be incriminating evidence! *draws for Shaggy's ole chune*
Hmmm... I plead insanity and unsound mind from early! Muahahahahahahaa D:
(Now to plot how to secretly eviscerate these nuisances on the road....)
I had to go look for some sorta video... Just look at this fool below. SMH
What does the movie: "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider" and a Mastectomy have in common? If you haven't already heard, I'm sure you maybe wondering. I'll tell you. Think of the woman with the trademark chapped lips in Hollywood. If you watched Tomb Raider, Salt, The Tourist--Mr & Mrs. Smith; you already know who it is.
That's right.
The poster child for Lara Croft: Tomb Raider; is now the poster child for cutting off your boobs for health reasons. I present:
Now a lot of people may be wondering why the hell she would do such a thing. If you're a boob lover like me (confession is good for the soul), then you probably wouldn't initially be a big supporter of such a move.
You can see my initial reaction below:
Then, I kinda got a little outrageous... (Just a little teensy weensy bit *nervous smile* **)
However, after my brief outburst I decided to read and find out exactly why. Turns out, her mother died of breast cancer at age 56 (Jolie is 37 now) and after doing tests, she discovered she has the genes that gave her an 87% chance of getting breast cancer, and a 50% percent chance of getting ovarian cancer. Those genes are called BRCA1 and another faulty gene, called BRCA2.
**If it makes you feel better, I already knew about this procedure; I knew why it was done, although I had only seen it once before, so my initial outburst was just me wondering if she was just doing it 'cause she could, like several celebrities tend to do with various operations and procedures.
Now I, like many people, have a SPECIAL hatred for cancer. My hatred is due to cancer killing so many good people I knew, and affecting Seventh Day Adventists especially, despite us claiming to have the health message.
I really couldn't imagine my wife (to be) having to cut off her breasts though, but at the same time, after reading up on Angelina's case, I completely understood and supported her decision. We ALL know its a serious thing when people say "prevention is better than cure".
So guys (or girls, if you totally have a girl crush on Angelina), don't worry. If the image of a flat-chested Jolie in upcoming movies is plaguing your mind like it did mine, I have good news:
The Tomb Raider body shall remain! \o/
This is a really brave and commendable move from the iconic star, and I'm sure her husband--wait, dem nuh married yet nuh tru?! I cudda swear they were! But I know he supports her. If you don't know who is her husband, please to slap yourself several times and read the story > HERE < to find out is who. I'll give you a hint: his name rhymes with "Bad Wit"...
I'm sure that like many other celebs the lady who always looks like she needs chapstick Angie will definitely inspire many women to be proactive and do what they have to do to stay healthy and give themselves a better chance at having longer lives.
However, one major drawback is that the test alone costs US $3000. O_O That's alotta money. That's almost $300,000 JMD. It's a high price to pay for just a test. Imagine the whole procedure.
Overall, even though I'm a quintessential breast lover, I fully support Angie's move. It'd be tough for me to deal with if I was her husband, but I think I'd definitely want to increase my woman's chances of being around longer too. If I ever get to that bridge, I hope we'll be rich enough to pay for implants!
Cancer sucks, so kudos to the Tomb Raider for unearthing the confidence to make a move so bold that may just prolong her life, and eventually, the lives of many other women.
>>>>>>>>>>DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SUPPORT HOMOSEXUALITY<<<<<<<<<<<
I am a huge basketball fan. However, on April 29,
2013, something hardly basketball related--save for the fact that it had to do
with a basketball player, opened my eyes to a pretty interesting question.
Jason Collins
Jason Collins (NBA player of the Washington Wizards, now a free agent) became
the first active Major US Pro athlete (meaning in Hockey, Basketball, Baseball or Football i.e. NFL) to come out and openly admit to being gay.
There have been instances where former players have “come out of the closet” to
disdain by many and with support from a few, but an active player? This was unprecedented.
Being the opinionated fellow that I am, I posted an opinion
on Facebook, (in jest) that I would no longer watch sports. A friend of mine
took my jest literally but it was all in fun to me. However later on, this
prompted me to ask a very pertinent set of questions. (And yes I still intend
to watch sports).
What’s the reason for homophobia being so high in Jamaica
& other Caribbean countries, while at lower levels in North America and
Europe? What’s so different with us? Why are we so anti-gay when the rest of
the world isn’t? Mind you, I’m not pro-gay, because I believe in the Bible
which is against it, and I think homosexuality is unnatural.
Imagine my shock to receive an answer saying: “Educated
people are more open minded & liberal, so make of that what you will.”
Am I to understand that straight people are uneducated?! I
had to restrain myself from responding the way I really wanted to. Because we don't agree or support a position? Please. Have several seats. That is a faaaar cry from being uneducated.
Thankfully,
a friend of mine says she’s secretly a historian and pointed out to me that:
“Homosexuality was introduced forcefully to Africans. White men raped them into
submission they feared.”
She added that the practice has been a part of world
dominant cultures and to maintain dominance, men raped men. If true, this would explain why black people are so
homophobic, and with good reason I’d say. Therefore, people of the Caribbean (who
are made up of mostly African descendants), have merely inherited the fear of our
forefathers. I won't accept that at face value as plausible as it sounds; therefore, I intend to research this further, make myself more "educated" if you will. It's something I need to get to the bottom of... LOL
You know I had to put a pun somewhere.
P.s. I do not believe homosexuals are to be beaten, or treated unfairly even though we do not agree with their decision to lead that lifestyle. So even though I do not support that lifestyle and I will flatly refuse ANY suggestion that I should be accepting of the lifestyle, they should be treated just like any other human beings.I don't hate them, and will never hate them as people, I just hate what they're doing, just like any other thing that is a sin.
Sooooo.... I recently posted my thoughts on love. What love entails is an age old question that will continue to be asked. Answering it will now be easier, thanks to me! :D My definition got so much traction, I thought I would share it here. As it came to me (fairly) randomly, I posted this on my Facebook:
"What is love?
My new definition: Accepting someone unconditionally; faults and all, and being able to harmoniously co-exist by building on their strengths and helping them along with their weaknesses. The latter must never be mistaken for or substituted with trying to change someone into what you want them to be. Love will make amicable compromises."
*Only one detractor has said I'm "myopically philosophical". Meh... Haters gonna hate!
DISCLAIMER: THIS POST IS LONG... ish If you don't care about hair, you may go.
If you do, or you're curious, great! \o/
Now you may carry on :D
I love hair. Women’s hair, and my hair. I love hair so much;
I want all women to have a lot of hair, and I want to have a lot of hair too. I
don’t like when a woman cuts off her hair, and frankly I’d rather not cut mine
either. Don’t judge me, you have things you really love too I’m sure. Don’t
worry women with short hair, I love you all too. My love for hair has prompted
me to grow my own hair twice, with one successful attempt and the other short
lived as an act of pleasing my mother (who detests males having a lot of hair).
The hair in all it's splendor
Where am I going with this? Just ‘hair’ me out.
I am now a member of corporate society. I’ve already had to
cut my hair for work once, and I wasn’t pleased about it, because I wanted to
lock my hair. Not to become a Rastafarian, but I just like the style. As I
write, I still want to lock my hair, but I’m on the verge of another haircut!
This is Jamaica, and corporate men have a certain look; a
look that if you are found outside of that box, you are frowned upon. Even more
recently, my boss asked me if I don’t go to the barber, as I have acquired over
a month’s worth of hair.
Isn't this corporate enough?
I joked that I was becoming a Rasta, to which I was
rebuked and told “oh no, no. We don’t have that here.” In this day and age,
2013, when so many other things have been accepted, why is corporate society
still against a black man and his hair. I turn to the words of my best friend,
Carl Cunningham, who so aptly wrote a feature piece called “Picky Picky
Head—Dead”.
He drew from the words of the song, “Rasta Love”: She didn’t know how to tell him, she was in love with a Rasta man” are the words that ring out from reggae prodigy, Protoje and veteran artiste Ky-Mani Marley. The song is titled “Rasta Love”. The profound and very true-life lyrics narrate the predicament of a Rastafarian man who happens to be in a relationship with a high society girl.
She doesn’t know how to tell her family, particularly her hoity-toity father that “she was in love with a Rasta man”! He would never have it! The relationship was growing and she was eager, but too timid to tell him, her father, what was on her mind. The song itself is very metaphorical in nature, using the story to represent a familiar societal prejudice: African descendants have not embraced their natural beauty. Picky, picky head- Dead!”
You think Bob would've been accepted in the corporate world?
Yeah... Didn't think so either.
Time and time again I’ve seen it. Places I’ve worked,
church, school—you name it. After all, I did have a lot of hair once. In Carl’s
experience (one relating to both males and females),
“I
have seen parents, family friends, and “well-wishers” contort their faces at
the sight of locked, twisted, plaited and or just afro hair styles. [TRUST
ME, I would know! I was one of those with the hairstyles!!!] But, I have never seen those same faces
screwed-up at the sight of a freshly processed—or should I say damaged, head of
hair. Instead there is delight and reception. I have seen friends reluctantly
remove an entire head of rich African hair to go to a job interview after
patiently nurturing its growth for years. Why do we as Africans resent our
natural hair texture?”
YOU SHOULDA SEEN THE LOOKS WHEN I DID THIS!!!
As a matter of fact, lemme roll the footage! ***
*** Auntie Karen seh mi get electrocuted!!! loool too funny. We love the Morgans though, and I know they love me too :D
Personal Experience
I remember--somewhat painfully--the experience of coming to
Kingston to sing at church one Sabbath (Saturday) afternoon. My family came to
hear my choir. My hair was twisted at the time, but I left that surprise for
them to see upon coming to the church. As these church events normally go, you
meet up with folk you haven’t seen for a while. When it was over I was standing
by my family, and my dad met up with someone he knew from way back. I was
standing right there and in the way only he does he said, “Oh, do you know my
son?” (Twisted hair and all) and introduced me. Now I know my mother loves me
dearly and I love her to death too, and I put my arm around her and she did not
want me to hug her. Why? Because she wasn’t pleased about my hair. Ain’t that
something? I said some words to her, not anything disrespectful, but I was
stern about how I felt about her response to me. Basically, I thought that as
her son, regardless of what I do, or how my hair looks, she should accept me
and love me the same.
My family <3
Corporate Jamaica’s
Lack of Acceptance
Returning to the issue of corporate Jamaica, and the
workforce, an article contributed to the Gleaner by Tesi Johnson in 2005 stated that corporate Jamaica seems
determined to keep Rastafari out of their circle, and they discriminate against
Rastas who seek employment. The icon of the “natty dread locks” is a far cry
from the clean-cut image of the corporate world, and it seems as if corporate
Jamaica is doing what it can to preserve that image by marginalizing Rastas.
And even if men sport locks as a hairstyle rather than a symbol of their religion,
they still face discrimination in the corporate corridors.
8 years later, has this changed much? A little maybe, but on
a large scale? No.
A conversation I had with the General Manager of the media
house in which I did internship, really enlightened me. She told me when I
arrived there for internship and she saw my appearance and heard the way I
speak, she didn’t really expect much from this tall, lazy-voiced guy in dire
need of a haircut. However, she added that as time went by she got to know me,
my work and my commitment to being a good media practitioner; she actually grew
to like me as a person and for what I was able to do, and not how I looked!
Granted, she was still quite happy to see me approximately 6 months later
without my hair, as her personal preference is for men to keep their hair low,
but she pointed out to me that though it should not be so, when going for
interviews and job opportunities, some people pay a great deal of attention to
appearance only, and less to the responses given to the questions and the
qualifications of the person. She added that she got to know what I could do
because I was placed there by my school for internship, and not because of a
personal choice. She said most people probably would not be afforded the
opportunity to get to know me in such a way and would simply turn me down
because of my hair and appearance.
For my first “real” job, I went into the interview with my
hair, but after being told I got the job, I was informed that my potential
locks had to go. Well, kudos for the manager for seeing past my hair at least
for the interview. (Although, I've gotten wind that he was just desperate... oh well!)
My hair wasn't styled before being cut though (clearly) but here's a short before and after! And yes, I know after wins -__-
Before:
then after:
1970 and 80’s
Unfortunately (or fortunately), I wasn’t around in the 1970’s
or 80’s—at least that’s the period where
I think afros were in style at the time (historians, and people that were,
you know, there; correct me if my timeline is wrong). What happened in those
days? What kind of hairstyles did corporate men have? Was there even a corporate
Jamaica? Did men have to cut their afros for work? I’m merely asking, because I
really don’t know. I blame youth.
Check out these pics; seems like there existed some acceptable looks back then that aren't so acceptable to now (never mind the pose in the 2nd one):
This looks QUITE Corporate to me!!!
And what's wrong with this one? Not big on the pose, but he looks quite fine, hair and all!
Conclusion
I believe that the kind of hair a person has, should not
determine how he (or even she) is perceived in the workplace. If the hair is
being grown but can be kept neat, personally, I don’t see what the big fuss is.
With the majority of our population being of African descent, we didn’t ask for
the kind of hair we have. It’s not our fault we can’t slick back or easily
maneuver our hair like Caucasians or Asians do. Why do we think that (as men) our
hair has to be kept low to be considered attractive or appropriate for work? I
think we need to step away from this mentality. Just like how a male African Lion is seen as graceful and attractive with his mane, men can and should be
accepted if it is our desire to have our own ‘manes’.Our hair doesn’t stop us from being
productive, so why continue to let it be a hindrance? Weekly or monthly
haircuts are hardly the panacea for the problems in corporate Jamaica, and even
in the wider society. I end with what Carl said to end his piece, and this
applies to both men and women:
“There is nothing barbaric, primitive or distasteful about natural African hair. We need to realize that our young girls are victimized mentally and psychologically by these facades in the business world. They are forced to change their physical features and are given the impression that their natural hair is unprofessional and ugly. We need to realize that regardless of religious persuasion, hairstyle, dress or speech, everyone deserves fair treatment, respect and the equal opportunities. Until we release ourselves form these false values, we will always be mentally enslaved and picky, picky head will always be dead. ”
To this I raise my comb and afro pick and say “Hair, hair!”
P.s. for the record, the image below is never appropriate.
