Another entry in honor of National Poetry Month. When Robert Pinsky was the National Poet Laureate, he initiated the Favorite Poem Project, where various people around the nation are profiled and they read their favorite poem (President Bill Clinton and First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton are featured, so you can guess how long ago this project took place).
The profiles of the people and the poems they read are emblematic of a "mixed-race" America. If you go to the website (click here) you can scroll down and see the various poems and the various people who have chosen to read these poems. And when you click on a window, it will give you the story of the person and their reasons for choosing this poem.
Among the ones I hope you will click on is "The Song of the Banana Man" by Evan Jones, a Jamaican poet, and it is read by George Scott, a Jamaican American bakery owner in Hartford, CT. My cousin "I" sent this link to me (thanks "I"). Listening to George Scott read this poem you get a feel for the language of Jamaica and the beauty of poetry. Enjoy!
Showing posts with label Jamaica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jamaica. Show all posts
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Feeling Chinese Jamaican
This is going to be my last post in my "Jamaica" series. There's still a lot I am processing, but I may just pull the "classic" academic move and save it for an article. Truthfully, I would like to write about my experiences in a more formal way--as well as write about the Chinese Jamaican diaspora, so whether I return to this topic on this blog, or not, I know it is a subject I'll continue to write about, in some form, later.
But I want to return to the question that my cousin asked of me (twice) and that I have been asking about myself, probably for as long as I can remember:
Am I Jamaican? Do I feel Jamaican?
Or perhaps more specificaly:
Am I Chinese Jamaican...do I feel Chinese Jamaican?
Yes, when I was touring around Kingston with my family. For example, in the above photo, we went by the Catholic boy's school St. George (which is now co-ed) that my uncles (all 6 of them) attended. And seeing all these places and having my various relatives share their memories about living in Jamaica, made me feel very connected to this place.
And when we all climbed up Dunn's River Falls together, as touristy as this is, it is also wonderfully fun and is something that locals also do from time to time (in fact, there is a separate "locals" rate, which my Uncle "N" got for us, but the non-accented members of the family (including yours truly) were under strict instructions not to speak until we were past the checkpoint).
Perhaps most of all, it was the meals we shared that made me feel connected to my family and to being Chinese Jamaican. Food, and more specifically, the times that made us gather together as a family around food, is always what I associate with being Chinese Jamaican. The photo above is of a jerk place in Ocho Rios that we were taken to by a local friend (that's the back of my cousin "A's" head in the photo--"A" wanted me to mention him in my blog, and I told him that while I try to keep this pseudonymous and didn't want to include family photos, I figured only those nearest and dearest to "A" would recognize the back of his head, and he'll enjoy his very small moment of fame in this blog).
When "W" asked me in Montego Bay whether my ideas of being Chinese Jamaican had changed after a week in Jamaica--whether I felt any closer to being Chinese Jamaican, I told him that while I really didn't feel connected to the island in and of itself (for that I'd need to either go back in time or spend a lot more time living in Jamaica, preferably Kingston), the moments when I felt most strongly connected, when I feel Chinese Jamaican, are moments spent in the company of my family. And really, I didn't need to go to Jamaica to figure this out. This has always been the case. I felt it when I went to Toronto for my cousin's wedding. Or during my Uncle's memorial service in California. Or even just talking to family members on the phone. I may not completely identify as Chinese Jamaican, but the majority of my family does. And above race and gender and a host of other "identity" factors, there is that--there is my family connection and identification. And we are a very mixed bunch, living in various part of the Americas over the last century. And so, yes, at the end of the day, I feel like a part of my family, which means, I do feel and am Chinese Jamaican.
But I want to return to the question that my cousin asked of me (twice) and that I have been asking about myself, probably for as long as I can remember:
Am I Jamaican? Do I feel Jamaican?
Or perhaps more specificaly:
Am I Chinese Jamaican...do I feel Chinese Jamaican?
Yes, when I was touring around Kingston with my family. For example, in the above photo, we went by the Catholic boy's school St. George (which is now co-ed) that my uncles (all 6 of them) attended. And seeing all these places and having my various relatives share their memories about living in Jamaica, made me feel very connected to this place.
And when we all climbed up Dunn's River Falls together, as touristy as this is, it is also wonderfully fun and is something that locals also do from time to time (in fact, there is a separate "locals" rate, which my Uncle "N" got for us, but the non-accented members of the family (including yours truly) were under strict instructions not to speak until we were past the checkpoint).
Perhaps most of all, it was the meals we shared that made me feel connected to my family and to being Chinese Jamaican. Food, and more specifically, the times that made us gather together as a family around food, is always what I associate with being Chinese Jamaican. The photo above is of a jerk place in Ocho Rios that we were taken to by a local friend (that's the back of my cousin "A's" head in the photo--"A" wanted me to mention him in my blog, and I told him that while I try to keep this pseudonymous and didn't want to include family photos, I figured only those nearest and dearest to "A" would recognize the back of his head, and he'll enjoy his very small moment of fame in this blog).
When "W" asked me in Montego Bay whether my ideas of being Chinese Jamaican had changed after a week in Jamaica--whether I felt any closer to being Chinese Jamaican, I told him that while I really didn't feel connected to the island in and of itself (for that I'd need to either go back in time or spend a lot more time living in Jamaica, preferably Kingston), the moments when I felt most strongly connected, when I feel Chinese Jamaican, are moments spent in the company of my family. And really, I didn't need to go to Jamaica to figure this out. This has always been the case. I felt it when I went to Toronto for my cousin's wedding. Or during my Uncle's memorial service in California. Or even just talking to family members on the phone. I may not completely identify as Chinese Jamaican, but the majority of my family does. And above race and gender and a host of other "identity" factors, there is that--there is my family connection and identification. And we are a very mixed bunch, living in various part of the Americas over the last century. And so, yes, at the end of the day, I feel like a part of my family, which means, I do feel and am Chinese Jamaican.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Multiracial Jamaica?
So one of the things that surprised me about Jamaica, specifically Kingston, where my mother and her siblings were born and raised, is that it wasn't nearly as multiracial as I thought it would be. My idea of Jamaica/Kingston as this multiracial space has a lot to do with my family, but it also has to do with reading on-line copies of The Jamaica-Gleaner (newspaper) and reading a novel, Margaret Cezair-Thompson's The True History of Paradise: a Novel.
[By the way, this is a good time for a book plug for Cezair-Thompson's novel. A friend-colleague of mine gave a fascinating conference presentation and since it was right before my trip, I went out and bought it and read it and found that it was not only engaging, but also provided an interesting narrative about the political change that Jamaica was undergoing between 1960-1975 as it changed from a colonial state to an independent nation. For more on Cezair-Thompson, click here for her personal website]
Anyway, what I found throughout Jamaica was that aside from the tourists, locals appear to be black Jamaicans, with a few shopkeepers and grocery store clerks who are Indian and Chinese. Our driver, Errol, who drove us from Kingston to Ocho Rios and then around Ocho Rios sight-seeing, claims that 95% of the grocery stores owned in Jamaica are by the Chinese. And while I don't know how accurate his statistics are, certainly anecdotally it appears to be true since the few groceries we went into were, indeed, owned and staffed by Chinese Jamaicans and, historically, this would make sense since Chinese in Jamaica comprised a middle-man economy of shopkeepers.
But in and around Kingston and Port Royal, away from tourist centers, Jamaica appeared to be comprised of mainly black-Jamaicans--at least that's what I "saw." Yet, my cousin "W" saw something different--to him, he noticed much more mixture; he commented on people having "Chinese" eyes and seemed to discern between white Jamaicans and white tourists in Ocho Rios more readily than me.
When I mentioned to "W" that I was expecting to see a more multiracial Jamaica, he said that his idea of Jamaica, growing up and upon his return, was that it was a predominantly black nation, but that it was also a multiracial nation--that there had been so much race mixing, because of the legacy of British colonialism, that while currently "black" Jamaicans are more apparent to the naked eye, the truth is that Jamaicans don't just think of themselves this way--that the way that we talk about race in the U.S. is not how people in Jamaica talk about race. Or at least not the way that "W" and his family think about it.
And the truth is, I did experience a multiracial Jamaica. For example, the family friends and my family's family are all very mixed: "W's" aunts and cousins (mixtures of Indian, Chinese, black, and white) and my Uncle "N" who married into our family has family who is still in Kingston and at a dinner at his parents' home there was a mix of what looked like, black, Indian, and Chinese people, all part of his family, all local Jamaicans.
So while I may not have seen evidence of a multiracial Jamaica on the streets, in people's homes I met plenty of people who were multiracial Jamaicans, and perhaps more importantly, my own family seemed to be evidence that the idea of a mixed-race Jamaica is alive and well.
[By the way, this is a good time for a book plug for Cezair-Thompson's novel. A friend-colleague of mine gave a fascinating conference presentation and since it was right before my trip, I went out and bought it and read it and found that it was not only engaging, but also provided an interesting narrative about the political change that Jamaica was undergoing between 1960-1975 as it changed from a colonial state to an independent nation. For more on Cezair-Thompson, click here for her personal website]
Anyway, what I found throughout Jamaica was that aside from the tourists, locals appear to be black Jamaicans, with a few shopkeepers and grocery store clerks who are Indian and Chinese. Our driver, Errol, who drove us from Kingston to Ocho Rios and then around Ocho Rios sight-seeing, claims that 95% of the grocery stores owned in Jamaica are by the Chinese. And while I don't know how accurate his statistics are, certainly anecdotally it appears to be true since the few groceries we went into were, indeed, owned and staffed by Chinese Jamaicans and, historically, this would make sense since Chinese in Jamaica comprised a middle-man economy of shopkeepers.
But in and around Kingston and Port Royal, away from tourist centers, Jamaica appeared to be comprised of mainly black-Jamaicans--at least that's what I "saw." Yet, my cousin "W" saw something different--to him, he noticed much more mixture; he commented on people having "Chinese" eyes and seemed to discern between white Jamaicans and white tourists in Ocho Rios more readily than me.
When I mentioned to "W" that I was expecting to see a more multiracial Jamaica, he said that his idea of Jamaica, growing up and upon his return, was that it was a predominantly black nation, but that it was also a multiracial nation--that there had been so much race mixing, because of the legacy of British colonialism, that while currently "black" Jamaicans are more apparent to the naked eye, the truth is that Jamaicans don't just think of themselves this way--that the way that we talk about race in the U.S. is not how people in Jamaica talk about race. Or at least not the way that "W" and his family think about it.
And the truth is, I did experience a multiracial Jamaica. For example, the family friends and my family's family are all very mixed: "W's" aunts and cousins (mixtures of Indian, Chinese, black, and white) and my Uncle "N" who married into our family has family who is still in Kingston and at a dinner at his parents' home there was a mix of what looked like, black, Indian, and Chinese people, all part of his family, all local Jamaicans.
So while I may not have seen evidence of a multiracial Jamaica on the streets, in people's homes I met plenty of people who were multiracial Jamaicans, and perhaps more importantly, my own family seemed to be evidence that the idea of a mixed-race Jamaica is alive and well.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Color of Poverty
One of the things I've been trying to sort out, post-trip, are the dynamics of race vs. class vs. nationality that I experienced while in Jamaica. There were moments I felt very connected to Jamaica--when we literally re-traced the family's life in Kingston (more on this in a future post) but there were also moments, as I described yesterday, where I was acutely aware of being a tourist--or at least being perceived as a tourist (the question of whether I came to Jamaica as a tourist is one that I've wondered about. While it wasn't my intention to be a simple "tourist" the fact remains that my family and I did do typical tourist things--visiting Port Charles, climbing Dunn's River Falls, going to Doctor's Cave. Does our "family" status undercut this?)
I felt my tourist, or "outsider" status (because lets face it--that's what we really mean--tourists don't belong--they aren't locals--they don't call these places home--they leave) most keenly when I became aware of class differences. And you'd have to be really clueless and live in a state of willed denial not to be aware of huge class differences both within Jamaica and between Jamaicans and tourists/non-Jamaicans.
As my cousin "W" said, there is no middle-class in Jamaica: there is the poor and the wealthy. I did challenge him on this, pointing to the visit we had made to his aunt "P" in Portmore, and he did conceed that while "P" was hardly rich, according to Jamaican standards she was part of a lower-middle-class, especially when compared to people living just outside Portmore in shacks along the water--literal shacks made from discarded housing material and trash. But my cousin's point is also well taken--the economic divide in Jamaica is great--there are these huge homes in the hills of Kingston (see below):
[I took this from the minibus my family rented to tour Kingston]
The homes in Ocho Rios are even more spectacular--there was one that was built to resemble a cruiseship!
Then there are these more modest, middle-class homes in Kinston--the one below came from a neighborhood adjacent to the one my family grew up:
In many ways, these homes resemble subdivisions in California or any other middle-income housing tract in the U.S. Although the bars on the windows are a clear indication of the level of crime throughout Kingston. In fact, it was rare not to see any home without bars and gates and walls--only the shanties, many visible from the road, like the one below, which I saw on the way from Ochio Rios to Montego Bay, don't have bars and gates and locks:
And the economic disparity between tourists/outsiders and locals is also glaring--the cabride from our hotel in Montego Bay to the airport was 5 minutes long--we probably could have walked if we didn't have so much luggage. The cost was $700 JMD, which was a total rip-off by most standards, but this is one of the few ways taxi drivers make any money. And I found myself hesitating to give our driver a $50JMD tip--which is about 75cents--and of course I gave it to him and then chided myself. But it is easy to get caught up in feeling like you are being ripped-off as an American tourist. But that's the point--it's my money to give. The local taxi drivers and souvenir shop owners have to try to make as much as they can from the tourists because it's their livelihood. And it's sad when you get into a mentality, as an outsider, when you feel you don't want to give a 75 cent tip because you're being ripped off by the taxi fare.
One last thing: the picture of the shacks that line the road on the way to Montego Bay (and which line the roads all over Jamaica really) look very similar to the shacks that line the highway leading from Hong Kong to Guangzhou and that you find traveling along the Yucatan peninsula and overland from Istanbul to Athens. Poverty looks eerily similar, whether in the Caribbean, Asia, Europe, or I dare say the U.S. I'm not sure what color poverty is, but I know it's not green.
I felt my tourist, or "outsider" status (because lets face it--that's what we really mean--tourists don't belong--they aren't locals--they don't call these places home--they leave) most keenly when I became aware of class differences. And you'd have to be really clueless and live in a state of willed denial not to be aware of huge class differences both within Jamaica and between Jamaicans and tourists/non-Jamaicans.
As my cousin "W" said, there is no middle-class in Jamaica: there is the poor and the wealthy. I did challenge him on this, pointing to the visit we had made to his aunt "P" in Portmore, and he did conceed that while "P" was hardly rich, according to Jamaican standards she was part of a lower-middle-class, especially when compared to people living just outside Portmore in shacks along the water--literal shacks made from discarded housing material and trash. But my cousin's point is also well taken--the economic divide in Jamaica is great--there are these huge homes in the hills of Kingston (see below):
[I took this from the minibus my family rented to tour Kingston]
The homes in Ocho Rios are even more spectacular--there was one that was built to resemble a cruiseship!
Then there are these more modest, middle-class homes in Kinston--the one below came from a neighborhood adjacent to the one my family grew up:
In many ways, these homes resemble subdivisions in California or any other middle-income housing tract in the U.S. Although the bars on the windows are a clear indication of the level of crime throughout Kingston. In fact, it was rare not to see any home without bars and gates and walls--only the shanties, many visible from the road, like the one below, which I saw on the way from Ochio Rios to Montego Bay, don't have bars and gates and locks:
And the economic disparity between tourists/outsiders and locals is also glaring--the cabride from our hotel in Montego Bay to the airport was 5 minutes long--we probably could have walked if we didn't have so much luggage. The cost was $700 JMD, which was a total rip-off by most standards, but this is one of the few ways taxi drivers make any money. And I found myself hesitating to give our driver a $50JMD tip--which is about 75cents--and of course I gave it to him and then chided myself. But it is easy to get caught up in feeling like you are being ripped-off as an American tourist. But that's the point--it's my money to give. The local taxi drivers and souvenir shop owners have to try to make as much as they can from the tourists because it's their livelihood. And it's sad when you get into a mentality, as an outsider, when you feel you don't want to give a 75 cent tip because you're being ripped off by the taxi fare.
One last thing: the picture of the shacks that line the road on the way to Montego Bay (and which line the roads all over Jamaica really) look very similar to the shacks that line the highway leading from Hong Kong to Guangzhou and that you find traveling along the Yucatan peninsula and overland from Istanbul to Athens. Poverty looks eerily similar, whether in the Caribbean, Asia, Europe, or I dare say the U.S. I'm not sure what color poverty is, but I know it's not green.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Locals vs. Tourists
I'm not terribly well traveled, but I have to say that the few times I've found myself in what I'll call typical "tourist" spots (and I guess I'm thinking of places like Key West, Cozumel, old Athens around the Acropolis) I find there is this odd tension between wanting a place to be "authentic" and to have people experience the culture as either part of its local charm (the relaxed atmosphere of the keys), or something exotic (the Mexican Caribbean flavor of Cozumel) or part of an ancient past (old Athens) with trying to SELL you this image--the vendors that swarm around you and hawk wares at you in these places.
I found this to also be true in Jamaica, at least in the more "touristy" spots that we visited in Ocho Rios and Montego Bay. The places we went to in Kingston and Port Royal weren't places many tourists would go to (or any really because so many people are told how violent Kingston is, we didn't see a whole lot of tourists, or at least not American toursits, hanging out in Kingston--we did find some German and Australian and black American tourists, but aside from a few businesspeople, no white American tourists). But Ocho Rios is THE major cruise ship destination in Jamaica, and Montego Bay is THE airport that tourists fly into, either to stay or to head to Ocho Rios or Negril (there are 2 major airports in Jamaica, Kingston and Montego Bay and basically you fly into Kingston for business or because you have family--if you are a tourist, you stay on the north shore and fly into Montego Bay, which is literally on the opposite end of the island (North West vs. South East) from Kingston).
And the problem for me was feeling like I was a tourist but also not a tourist. Actually, I didn't have a problem with being a "tourist" in certain places, because I don't have family here and didn't grow up here and because as a relatively privileged American, I do have an income that allows me to travel and stay at nice hotels and not worry about eating out (and unfortunately for the Jamaican dollar, the exchange rate was 70JMD to 1 US). But the rest of my family wanted to be treated as locals--especially for my cousins who were born and to some degree raised in Jamaica (the oldest among them left when he was 7) they were pretty offended, at times, to be mistaken for tourists and insisted on being given "local" rates--or poked fun of those "other" tourists who didn't know that there were 2 rates or who didn't know where to get the authentic Jamaican food (this we did in one case by going into the town of Port Royal versus eating at the hotel restaurant).
But despite my cousins telling me not to, I continually overtipped wherever we went, left money in the hotel for the cleaning staff, and didn't try to bargain too much for the few souvenirs I picked up. Is it my overengaged sense of class privilege? Is it because I KNOW that I can't pass as a local (my family were continually joking that I should keep my mouth shut in certain places because while most of my cousins have Jamaican accents and can speak patois, I can't, so I'd be a dead giveaway)?
[I got this photo from the internet--it shows some typical tourist shops in Montego Bay]
The truth is, I'm not a local. There was so much of Jamaica that seemed very touristy to me--packaged for people who wanted a comfortable "Island" experience--but there was also a sadness, for me, to go to a crafts area and be bombarded with people who were shouting, "Miss, Miss, come look at my stall" and to see stall after stall of these trinkets and wooden souvenirs and the colors of the Jamaican flag splashed everywhere and to have these people vying for your attention to sell you something to take back to put on your coffee table. Part of me wants to say that this isn't the "real" Jamaica. But you know, it is. People selling trinkets IS part of the real Jamaica. People urging you to come into their shop--to try to sell you something--the need to sell you something--that is part of the way that Jamaica operates as a country utterly dependent on tourist dollars.
As much as I wanted this trip to be about a type of "homecoming," I am a tourist. As much as I have family who grew up here, I'm not accepted as a Jamaican--not at least without a lot of explaining, and it was one of the things that did make me feel my difference from the people who grew up and lived in Jamaica--at the end of the trip, I left with my blue passport.
I found this to also be true in Jamaica, at least in the more "touristy" spots that we visited in Ocho Rios and Montego Bay. The places we went to in Kingston and Port Royal weren't places many tourists would go to (or any really because so many people are told how violent Kingston is, we didn't see a whole lot of tourists, or at least not American toursits, hanging out in Kingston--we did find some German and Australian and black American tourists, but aside from a few businesspeople, no white American tourists). But Ocho Rios is THE major cruise ship destination in Jamaica, and Montego Bay is THE airport that tourists fly into, either to stay or to head to Ocho Rios or Negril (there are 2 major airports in Jamaica, Kingston and Montego Bay and basically you fly into Kingston for business or because you have family--if you are a tourist, you stay on the north shore and fly into Montego Bay, which is literally on the opposite end of the island (North West vs. South East) from Kingston).
And the problem for me was feeling like I was a tourist but also not a tourist. Actually, I didn't have a problem with being a "tourist" in certain places, because I don't have family here and didn't grow up here and because as a relatively privileged American, I do have an income that allows me to travel and stay at nice hotels and not worry about eating out (and unfortunately for the Jamaican dollar, the exchange rate was 70JMD to 1 US). But the rest of my family wanted to be treated as locals--especially for my cousins who were born and to some degree raised in Jamaica (the oldest among them left when he was 7) they were pretty offended, at times, to be mistaken for tourists and insisted on being given "local" rates--or poked fun of those "other" tourists who didn't know that there were 2 rates or who didn't know where to get the authentic Jamaican food (this we did in one case by going into the town of Port Royal versus eating at the hotel restaurant).
But despite my cousins telling me not to, I continually overtipped wherever we went, left money in the hotel for the cleaning staff, and didn't try to bargain too much for the few souvenirs I picked up. Is it my overengaged sense of class privilege? Is it because I KNOW that I can't pass as a local (my family were continually joking that I should keep my mouth shut in certain places because while most of my cousins have Jamaican accents and can speak patois, I can't, so I'd be a dead giveaway)?
[I got this photo from the internet--it shows some typical tourist shops in Montego Bay]
The truth is, I'm not a local. There was so much of Jamaica that seemed very touristy to me--packaged for people who wanted a comfortable "Island" experience--but there was also a sadness, for me, to go to a crafts area and be bombarded with people who were shouting, "Miss, Miss, come look at my stall" and to see stall after stall of these trinkets and wooden souvenirs and the colors of the Jamaican flag splashed everywhere and to have these people vying for your attention to sell you something to take back to put on your coffee table. Part of me wants to say that this isn't the "real" Jamaica. But you know, it is. People selling trinkets IS part of the real Jamaica. People urging you to come into their shop--to try to sell you something--the need to sell you something--that is part of the way that Jamaica operates as a country utterly dependent on tourist dollars.
As much as I wanted this trip to be about a type of "homecoming," I am a tourist. As much as I have family who grew up here, I'm not accepted as a Jamaican--not at least without a lot of explaining, and it was one of the things that did make me feel my difference from the people who grew up and lived in Jamaica--at the end of the trip, I left with my blue passport.
Monday, February 25, 2008
"Hello Mrs. Chin!"
Years back, when I lived in Western Massachusetts, there was a Jamaican restaurant I went to all the time--really a take-out joint with 4 formica tables. My parents came to visit once, and I took them there and when we got to the counter the owner, a woman I'd seen countless times, looked up at my mother and said "Hello Mrs. Chin!"
This is not my family's surname--but it is what all Chinese in Jamaica are called--Mrs. Chin, Mr. Chin, Chinee people, Chinee--variations thereof.
This my mother explained after we left the shop. She was actually tickled pink to be called Mrs. Chin--to be reminded of a practice that she had grown used to as a young girl. None of my relatives ever thought this was offensive--it was simply what they were called. Of course, I think that there are a few qualifications. I think that it was black Jamaicans who generally referred to Chinese Jamaicans as "Mrs. Chin" and not white Jamaicans (although I could be wrong about this).
And throughout my stay in Jamaica, I did encounter this practice along with my cousins and other family members. At one restaurant, a waiter gestured to our table and asked another server if he would bring menus to the "China people." At Dunn's river falls, a local guide smiled warmly at me and said, "How are you doing Mrs. Chin?" -- which took me a minute to realize that he was talking to me, but I smiled back and told him I was fine. And in meeting one of my cousin's second cousin's, a young boy of 7 who did not favor the Chinese side of the family, he looked dubiously at all of us and asked his grandmother if my cousin could really be related to him because he looked like a "Chinee" person.
And oddly enough, none of this bothered me. I freely admit that if I had been in the U.S. and this had happened to me--if an African American man had called me Mrs. Chin or talked about a group of us as "China people" it would have rankled me to no end. But in Jamaica? Having heard that this was the experience of my family, seeing that this continued, and understanding a bit about the complicated racial hierarchies and dynamics of the nation, it just didn't bother me.
Is it a lack of malice--because I never sensed any in the comments? Was it my own "go with the flow" mentality--when in Rome, after all? Or is it the pick your battles issue--I mean, how would I begin to explain that this practice, begun probably a century ago, was stereotypical or potentially demeaning and confusing to not only Chinese but Asian visitors/residents (because lets face it, not only Chinese end up in Jamaica).
I'm not exactly sure what to make of this issue--the kinds of analyses I would apply here in the U.S. don't seem to adhere in the same way in Jamaica. I had several conversations with my cousin "W" on these issues, any many others, during our time there. "W" was born in Kingston, lived there until he was 3 and has made several trips back. Unlike my mother's side of the family (his father is my mother's brother), "W" still has his maternal side in Jamaica--his cousin "T" picked us up from the airport and we visited with his aunt "P" in a Kingston suburb, Portmore. "W"s family is very mixed--in addition to the "Chinese" flavor of my uncle, his mother's side brings together white, Indian, and black cultures, reflected to a large degree to the varying complexions and phenotypes of his many cousins.
Anyway, I'm going to end now. There's a lot more to be said and to mull over on this and many other topics. If you hadn't already guessed, this week I'm dedicating my blog posts to musings on my trip to Jamaica, on my thoughts of being Chinese Jamaican, and perhaps most importantly, on re-thinking the meaning of mixed race America if we open up the space of "America" beyond the borders of the U.S. to places north (like Canada, which is where most of my extended Chinese Jamaican family lives) and south to the Caribbean.
This is not my family's surname--but it is what all Chinese in Jamaica are called--Mrs. Chin, Mr. Chin, Chinee people, Chinee--variations thereof.
This my mother explained after we left the shop. She was actually tickled pink to be called Mrs. Chin--to be reminded of a practice that she had grown used to as a young girl. None of my relatives ever thought this was offensive--it was simply what they were called. Of course, I think that there are a few qualifications. I think that it was black Jamaicans who generally referred to Chinese Jamaicans as "Mrs. Chin" and not white Jamaicans (although I could be wrong about this).
And throughout my stay in Jamaica, I did encounter this practice along with my cousins and other family members. At one restaurant, a waiter gestured to our table and asked another server if he would bring menus to the "China people." At Dunn's river falls, a local guide smiled warmly at me and said, "How are you doing Mrs. Chin?" -- which took me a minute to realize that he was talking to me, but I smiled back and told him I was fine. And in meeting one of my cousin's second cousin's, a young boy of 7 who did not favor the Chinese side of the family, he looked dubiously at all of us and asked his grandmother if my cousin could really be related to him because he looked like a "Chinee" person.
And oddly enough, none of this bothered me. I freely admit that if I had been in the U.S. and this had happened to me--if an African American man had called me Mrs. Chin or talked about a group of us as "China people" it would have rankled me to no end. But in Jamaica? Having heard that this was the experience of my family, seeing that this continued, and understanding a bit about the complicated racial hierarchies and dynamics of the nation, it just didn't bother me.
Is it a lack of malice--because I never sensed any in the comments? Was it my own "go with the flow" mentality--when in Rome, after all? Or is it the pick your battles issue--I mean, how would I begin to explain that this practice, begun probably a century ago, was stereotypical or potentially demeaning and confusing to not only Chinese but Asian visitors/residents (because lets face it, not only Chinese end up in Jamaica).
I'm not exactly sure what to make of this issue--the kinds of analyses I would apply here in the U.S. don't seem to adhere in the same way in Jamaica. I had several conversations with my cousin "W" on these issues, any many others, during our time there. "W" was born in Kingston, lived there until he was 3 and has made several trips back. Unlike my mother's side of the family (his father is my mother's brother), "W" still has his maternal side in Jamaica--his cousin "T" picked us up from the airport and we visited with his aunt "P" in a Kingston suburb, Portmore. "W"s family is very mixed--in addition to the "Chinese" flavor of my uncle, his mother's side brings together white, Indian, and black cultures, reflected to a large degree to the varying complexions and phenotypes of his many cousins.
Anyway, I'm going to end now. There's a lot more to be said and to mull over on this and many other topics. If you hadn't already guessed, this week I'm dedicating my blog posts to musings on my trip to Jamaica, on my thoughts of being Chinese Jamaican, and perhaps most importantly, on re-thinking the meaning of mixed race America if we open up the space of "America" beyond the borders of the U.S. to places north (like Canada, which is where most of my extended Chinese Jamaican family lives) and south to the Caribbean.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
"Once you go to Jamaica, you know Jamaica"
Hello "Mixed Race America" readers--I have returned from my trip to Jamaica, and I'm not sure where to begin. I feel like I could write a week's worth of posts based on the things I saw and the experiences I had, and which I'm still digesting and mulling over.
Interestingly enough, the day after I returned, I saw a commercial sponsored by the Jamaican tourism board that showed images of happy American tourists (or perhaps I should say "white" tourists who may be from Canada, the U.S., Europe, Australia, or New Zealand) amidst verdant landscapes and beautiful waterscapes, much like this image below (which I found on the Jamaica tourism website):
[The thing about this image is, yes it is a classically "tourist" image of Jamaica, but there truly ARE scenes like this--lush scenes of jaw-dropping beauty, it will make your heart ache]
The commercial showed various tourists enjoying vacation-related things that one will find in Jamaica: reggae, steel drum, fishing, dancing, frolicking in the water and on sandy beaches, all with a cover of Bob Marley's "One Love" playing in the background and a tagline that reads: "Once you go to Jamaica, you know Jamaica."
And this is the question I have been asking myself, even without seeing this commercial: now that I've been to Jamaica, do I feel more Jamaican? This is the question my cousin posed to me on both the first and last day of my trip there: do I feel Jamaican? Have I found the missing piece of the puzzle I've been searching for? Do I now, know, what it means to be Chinese Jamaican?
I can't give a simple answer to any of these questions--and I will be writing more about this in future posts. But for now I will say this: I have gone to Jamaica and I do feel, now, in a way much different than before, that I do know Jamaica in a way that I never did before.
Interestingly enough, the day after I returned, I saw a commercial sponsored by the Jamaican tourism board that showed images of happy American tourists (or perhaps I should say "white" tourists who may be from Canada, the U.S., Europe, Australia, or New Zealand) amidst verdant landscapes and beautiful waterscapes, much like this image below (which I found on the Jamaica tourism website):
[The thing about this image is, yes it is a classically "tourist" image of Jamaica, but there truly ARE scenes like this--lush scenes of jaw-dropping beauty, it will make your heart ache]
The commercial showed various tourists enjoying vacation-related things that one will find in Jamaica: reggae, steel drum, fishing, dancing, frolicking in the water and on sandy beaches, all with a cover of Bob Marley's "One Love" playing in the background and a tagline that reads: "Once you go to Jamaica, you know Jamaica."
And this is the question I have been asking myself, even without seeing this commercial: now that I've been to Jamaica, do I feel more Jamaican? This is the question my cousin posed to me on both the first and last day of my trip there: do I feel Jamaican? Have I found the missing piece of the puzzle I've been searching for? Do I now, know, what it means to be Chinese Jamaican?
I can't give a simple answer to any of these questions--and I will be writing more about this in future posts. But for now I will say this: I have gone to Jamaica and I do feel, now, in a way much different than before, that I do know Jamaica in a way that I never did before.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
