I am queer…what now?
In the last week, I have read of the demolishing of a home that housed “rowdy, homeless gays” and a young gay Jamaican woman coming out and telling her story of rape and sexual assault. I have sat in my apartment in the safety of Toronto and watched over the past two years as the media houses hold an open war against the human rights movement.
There have been love marches and seething sermons. The tithes of the Church are, seemingly at this point, solely funding the campaign against Javed Jaghai’s court case. The Church has lost all interest in anything else. I can’t recall from memory an article from Jamaica’s Christian community that, in recent time, addresses anything other than the buggery law.
I was asked three days ago, “when are you coming home?” My answer was Christmas. The truth is, however, home has changed and Jamaica is not a place I am currently eager to visit. I know the welcome ill be warm, emphatic and joyous. I know that I will make amazing memories with my friends, family and lavish in the comforts of my homeland. Yet, as I walked down the street with my friend, and he simply jump and shouted the line from a song, I shushed him. He said, “leave me, I can’t do this in Jamaica.” He wasn’t performing some kind of act that can only be associated with the alternative heathens of society; he was expressing and embracing freedom. He was embracing the ability to be silly without the limitations of swag. For in Jamaica, even light moments must be couched in swagger. It is not enough to just stand somewhere; one must pose propped just against the wall like a figurine on your grandmother’s whatnot.
For all its parties, loose liquor laws and carefree tourism ads, Jamaicans are far from me. We are a people stifled by identity and appearances. Ironic for a place that condones recklessness and disorder more than any other I can think of. Mek noise all hours a mawnin, rain fall and yuh stay in yuh bed, there must be another way to get weh mi need that is illegal. So, what of the human spirit? What of the right to jump, scream and dance to a song you love without wondering or worrying? What of the human spirit?
I am queer and that is not simply about holding my partner’s hand in the streets. It is only one word that would follow the phrase I am. Labels are fine for those suffering from an inferiority complex but my human spirit will not be labeled. It is the battle for my spirit that has me staying in Canada, indefinitely. In Toronto, I am a writer, an educator, a marketer, a magnetic force. My sexual identity is not the only thing that defines me. I am not forced to remove any labels before having a conversation with anyone. I play freely with the children of both my straight friends and my gay friends. I envision the endless possibilities of my life- my PH.D, my legacy, my imprints (including how I will contribute to the growth of Jamaica, if and when I return.)
For all the shunning of Jamaica and the being shunned by Jamaica, it is the one place in the world I want to see my legacy imprinted.
I am queer…what now? I was thinking to grab some lunch.