A project I did for the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women (IDEVAW) 2014
Monday, 26 September 2016
Monday, 19 September 2016
Being reminded that SHE is a WOMAN - Women on the political scene, home and abroad.
First of all, let me declare that I cannot even vaguely imply that I am a watered-down version of a political enthusiast; actually I have rarely even kept abreast with what is happening locally, regionally or internationally. I admittedly have been living under a rock, or one hundred for that matter, blissfully oblivious to all that is happening around me in today's world. Therefore this post is not about political debate or discourse, but rather highlighting the disparity between what is expected and accepted from female politicians in comparison to their male counterparts.
I have recently vowed to emancipate myself from the veiled corner of ignorance in relation to world events. Slowly but increasingly I have begun to click on links to articles with sensational headlines about current or related events that pop up in my news-feeds. Hey, no judgement, it's a start, ok?! Recently I ran into a post on Facebook, by Humans of New York, seemingly quoting Hillary Clinton. The caption of the photo read:
I have recently vowed to emancipate myself from the veiled corner of ignorance in relation to world events. Slowly but increasingly I have begun to click on links to articles with sensational headlines about current or related events that pop up in my news-feeds. Hey, no judgement, it's a start, ok?! Recently I ran into a post on Facebook, by Humans of New York, seemingly quoting Hillary Clinton. The caption of the photo read:
“I’m not Barack Obama. I’m not Bill Clinton. Both of them carry themselves with a naturalness that is very appealing to audiences. But I’m married to one and I’ve worked for the other, so I know how hard they work at being natural. It’s not something they just dial in. They work and they practice what they’re going to say. It's not that they're trying to be somebody else. But it's hard work to present yourself in the best possible way. You have to communicate in a way that people say: ‘OK, I get her.’ And that can be more difficult for a woman. Because who are your models? If you want to run for the Senate, or run for the Presidency, most of your role models are going to be men. And what works for them won’t work for you. Women are seen through a different lens. It’s not bad. It’s just a fact. It’s really quite funny. I’ll go to these events and there will be men speaking before me, and they’ll be pounding the message, and screaming about how we need to win the election. And people will love it. And I want to do the same thing. Because I care about this stuff. But I’ve learned that I can’t be quite so passionate in my presentation. I love to wave my arms, but apparently that’s a little bit scary to people. And I can’t yell too much. It comes across as ‘too loud’ or ‘too shrill’ or ‘too this’ or ‘too that.’ Which is funny, because I’m always convinced that the people in the front row are loving it."
Hillary Clinton, Democratic presidential candidate in Denmark, South Carolina
Spencer Platt/ Getty Images
The post vivified thoughts and my curiosity about women on the political scene and the gender expectations they may be held accountable to by the masses. I did a quick google search of women on the political forefront and found an article by Forbes entitled, Women Who Rule The World: The 26 Most Powerful Female Political Leaders of 2016. The article listed Clinton among the top three on this year's Forbes list of the world's 100 Most Powerful Women, while ranked No. 1 was German Chancellor, Angela Merkel. I went on further to research sexism and women in politics, only to confirm that women have long endured sexist remarks, criticism and gender-based attacks about appearance, wardrobe and personality that are rarely made about their male peers. More often than not women are expected to withstand the storm without the slightest demonstration of perturbation, as even an infinitesimal flinch will be picked up on and used as fuel to discredit her facility to function in her role as politician.
I additionally read an article, by The Guardian published on June 14, 2013, with the title, Top Ten Most Sexist Moments in Politics: Julia Gillard, Hillary Clinton and More and was disturbed to see accounts of sexism ranging from patronizing utterances such as "calm down, dear", to being referred to as "a nobody, a tea girl.", to having to endure wolf-whistles while giving a speech, to being publicly lambasted for a personal decision to not have children. I cannot forget the infamous controversy in April of this year when Philippines presidential candidate, Mayor Rodrigo Duterte, joked that he thought that a rape victim was beautiful and he should have been first. When later asked about the statement at an appearance in IIoilo City he reportedly said "Don't force the issue because I will never really apologize", this after a statement of apology was issued on his behalf by his political party, PDP Laban. Although the female in this particular case was not a politician, it goes to show the level of disregard male politicians have for females in general.
These accounts of sexism invigorated a personal analysis of how female politicians are regarded closer to home; in the region and locally. I dug deeper into sexism in Caribbean politics and found registered cases emerging out of Trinidad and Tobago, Barbados, Bahamas, St Vincent and the Grenadines, Belize and Jamaica. I have not doubt, with such a large quantity of reports available, that my informal research did not extensively cover all incidents of sexism against female politicians.
It was harrowing to read the innumerable accounts of sexism against female politicians in Jamaica. Actually when I read Hillary's statement quoted above my mind instinctively jumped to our very own, The Most Honourable Portia Simpson-Miller, as I know she has been consistently lashed viciously by her male counterparts, the media and the general public in regards to her appearance, wardrobe, personality, passion among many other things.
Las May's depiction of The Most Hon. Portia Simpson-Miller
Clovis' shining the media watchlight on The Most Hon. Portia Simpson-Miller's wardrobe.
She is often portrayed as irate, boisterous, unlettered, boorish, unfashionable among multitudinous depictions. However, very rarely, if ever, is she illustrated as passionate, personable, powerful, ambitious, inspirational or any other adjectives we so often find attached to narratives of her male associates.
Another Jamaican female politician who readily came to mind was The Honourable Lisa Hanna. She is often times repudiated of her intellectual and political capabilities seemingly having been cemented to her former title of "beauty queen" in the minds of many. Who can forget the case in January of this year when her parliamentary colleague, Everald Warmington, Member of Parliment for South East St Catherine, referred to her as a Jezebel in a sitting of the House of Representatives. Warmington went further to defend his misogynistic comment claiming the term aptly described her and that he certainly would not liken her to Mother Theresa or the Virgin Mary. Not only has Miss Hanna had to endure these devaluing experience but she too has been thrown under the bus in relation to wardrobe and presentation. On the spectrum of attire, there is the viewing by many of female politicians business dress as frumpy, as in the case of Mrs. Portia Simpson-Miller to the invasion of one's choice of dress when living outside of political duties, as is the case of Miss Hanna. In December of 2014 Miss Hanna was reported by The Gleaner to have set off social media after posting photo in beachwear.
Lisa Hanna in beachwear - a photo reported posted on Facebook by her son, Alexander Panton
The photo precipitated a huge saga raking in condemnations and heavy criticisms about the appropriateness of her attire and to some extremes her competence as Minister of Youth and Culture.
It is sad to say, in this day and age, that female politicians are not served with equal respect and regard as their male colleagues, are not embraced for their equivalent demonstrations of passion as their male counterparts and that they are not even afforded governance of their own bodies as they see fit on occasions of leisure.
Quite disturbing.
Walk good til wi link again,
Njari.
Sunday, 18 September 2016
The Resurgence of The Pen
Wha' gwaan?
The last time I posted was August 14, 2013. All of three years have elapsed. Very uncharacteristic of someone who wishes to someday be a published author (chuckle). Three years filled with invaluable and exciting experiences, as well as, painful yet eye-opening ones...all of which, in retrospect, I appreciate and acknowledge as a part of the process of growth. Experiences that I could have totally written about, that would have all individually made great content for this online documentation of my personal evolution...however, as the years rolled on I grew deeper into the habit of debasing my ability when encouraged to write.
Nonetheless, embracing the brighter side of things, once a passion is not dead water it when the desire arises and eventually it will become ingrained as a part of life's routine. As we would say in Jamaica, "bit bit mek poun" (small amounts will eventually add up).
So here I am, once again, geared to attempt the honing of my dedication to writing through blogging. Let's see how I will fare. Will you ride the wave with me?
Walk good til wi link again.
Njari
The last time I posted was August 14, 2013. All of three years have elapsed. Very uncharacteristic of someone who wishes to someday be a published author (chuckle). Three years filled with invaluable and exciting experiences, as well as, painful yet eye-opening ones...all of which, in retrospect, I appreciate and acknowledge as a part of the process of growth. Experiences that I could have totally written about, that would have all individually made great content for this online documentation of my personal evolution...however, as the years rolled on I grew deeper into the habit of debasing my ability when encouraged to write.
Nonetheless, embracing the brighter side of things, once a passion is not dead water it when the desire arises and eventually it will become ingrained as a part of life's routine. As we would say in Jamaica, "bit bit mek poun" (small amounts will eventually add up).
So here I am, once again, geared to attempt the honing of my dedication to writing through blogging. Let's see how I will fare. Will you ride the wave with me?
Walk good til wi link again.
Njari
Picture site: Bamboo Avenue, St Elizabeth.
Captured during an epic two-day road trip across 12 parishes.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Jamaica and homosexuality.
So you say gays, whether proven or assumed, are not subjected to harm or fear in Jamaica?
That the "few" occurrences that hit the airwaves are just that.... few and seldom.... and provoked.
I have to pass a business establishment that serves as a hub for men and construction contractors to get to work. For the first couple of months I was met with "baby mi wah sen up inna yuh tightness", among other utterances of such nature. Apparently, it came to realization that I did not respond to such beckoning and almost as if overnight I began being met with "sadomite gyal, yuh can't stay roun yah caus wi ago draw yuh weh and fix yuh"..... and trust me, this was the most subtle of the comments. If I had to pass ten times for the day, best believe I would be verbally assaulted the ten times. Now imagine 25 or more men hurling threats at you, all at once. Would you still say there is no reason to feel threatened or would you disclaim it by saying I deserve the threats because I refused to answer to "baby mi wah dun yuh hole"?
As if that was not bad enough, sometimes I have to move back and forth during peak hours and as I don't drive I have to to take the bus. This establishment happens to be at the corner of a major main road and a minor road. The men, large and unified in their numbers, tend to choose these as opportuned times to belt their disapproval of my presumed sexuality. Coincidentally, the corner is also in the nook of a major intersection. Traffic creeps slowly, buses come overloaded elongating the wait. Stoplights, green, red, stop, go. Cars, buses, trucks, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians staring at the spectacle "instigating" this uproar. Conductors take a swipe at the taunting, men desperate to prove "masculinity" yell their input, women too weak to defend a sister stare, point and even laugh. Yet, you say there is no reason for fear?
You, the general society, watch and listen policymakers and entertainers incite intolerance of homosexuals, the same intolerance being gobbled up by the less educated and mindless who find time on their hands to jeer, beat and kill gays, whether proven or merely pressumed. You contibute through such practises.
This is one of my many stories, we all have stories. Stop speaking with half truths and innuendos, stand up, speak out. What is your story?
#love #peace #unity #movement
That the "few" occurrences that hit the airwaves are just that.... few and seldom.... and provoked.
I have to pass a business establishment that serves as a hub for men and construction contractors to get to work. For the first couple of months I was met with "baby mi wah sen up inna yuh tightness", among other utterances of such nature. Apparently, it came to realization that I did not respond to such beckoning and almost as if overnight I began being met with "sadomite gyal, yuh can't stay roun yah caus wi ago draw yuh weh and fix yuh"..... and trust me, this was the most subtle of the comments. If I had to pass ten times for the day, best believe I would be verbally assaulted the ten times. Now imagine 25 or more men hurling threats at you, all at once. Would you still say there is no reason to feel threatened or would you disclaim it by saying I deserve the threats because I refused to answer to "baby mi wah dun yuh hole"?
As if that was not bad enough, sometimes I have to move back and forth during peak hours and as I don't drive I have to to take the bus. This establishment happens to be at the corner of a major main road and a minor road. The men, large and unified in their numbers, tend to choose these as opportuned times to belt their disapproval of my presumed sexuality. Coincidentally, the corner is also in the nook of a major intersection. Traffic creeps slowly, buses come overloaded elongating the wait. Stoplights, green, red, stop, go. Cars, buses, trucks, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians staring at the spectacle "instigating" this uproar. Conductors take a swipe at the taunting, men desperate to prove "masculinity" yell their input, women too weak to defend a sister stare, point and even laugh. Yet, you say there is no reason for fear?
You, the general society, watch and listen policymakers and entertainers incite intolerance of homosexuals, the same intolerance being gobbled up by the less educated and mindless who find time on their hands to jeer, beat and kill gays, whether proven or merely pressumed. You contibute through such practises.
This is one of my many stories, we all have stories. Stop speaking with half truths and innuendos, stand up, speak out. What is your story?
#love #peace #unity #movement
Signing up for voluntary services in Jamaica....
On Monday, I tried enrolling with a couple institutions. I posted on facebook as I went along, here are the posts:
Visited the offices of Jamaica Cancer Society and Red Cross and managed to successfully sign up for their volunteer programmes. Went to Tom Redcam Libraby to find out if there existed a programme which would allow me to read to children or help them with art and craft projects, however the librarians were watching the women's race and did not wish to be disturbed. Got attitude from Council of Voluntary Social Services and was redirected to visit their website, regardless of being physically present in their office. Called an organization I was referred to and when asked what was my highest level of education I was met with "suh what you can't find a job eh?". I successfully refrained from telling her that unlike her my preference was to create my job as opposed to "looking" a job. My general thought, after today, is that trying to get onboard programmes of volunteerism means you have to act as if you are begging Sunday dinner, fend off sarcasm and scrutiny, fit the general concept of physical "normalism" as well as only volunteer if there is an ulterior motive of self gain.
Do you have any similar experiences trying to sign up?
I'm inquiring about volunteerism and just learnt that its Intenational Youth Day. I was asked why I didn't remove my facial jewellery — at Ministry of Culture, Youth & Sports."
"I'm being stared down but I am defiant because there is at least one youth who needs my effort."
".....and mi nah remove them..... I think this answer intensified the stares. #nonchalant"
Visited the offices of Jamaica Cancer Society and Red Cross and managed to successfully sign up for their volunteer programmes. Went to Tom Redcam Libraby to find out if there existed a programme which would allow me to read to children or help them with art and craft projects, however the librarians were watching the women's race and did not wish to be disturbed. Got attitude from Council of Voluntary Social Services and was redirected to visit their website, regardless of being physically present in their office. Called an organization I was referred to and when asked what was my highest level of education I was met with "suh what you can't find a job eh?". I successfully refrained from telling her that unlike her my preference was to create my job as opposed to "looking" a job. My general thought, after today, is that trying to get onboard programmes of volunteerism means you have to act as if you are begging Sunday dinner, fend off sarcasm and scrutiny, fit the general concept of physical "normalism" as well as only volunteer if there is an ulterior motive of self gain.
Do you have any similar experiences trying to sign up?
Monday, 12 August 2013
Diary of a Foodie: King Ital
After a day of going around the New Kingston into Cross Roads area trying to sign up with different organizations to be a volunteer I was exhausted, hot and hungry. I wanted some real ital food. There was a restaurant I had heard about and decided to visit there, however, upon arriving it was closed. I stood at the side of the road for a few minutes contemplating my next move and then I decided to ask some men in the bus park where I could get ital food. They directed me to King Ital, located at 4 Caledonia Crescent (right in the deep corner by the Camp Road taxi stand). I was relieved there was proper signage which made it easy to find. I entered through the bottom gate, through a space for parking into a dining area which ushered me into another area which housed additional dining and the service section.
I scanned the menu board, made some inquiries and ordered a mixed plate of "tun" cornmeal, rice and peanut, chunks and beans, ital stew, ackee and saltfish topped with steamed vegetables. To wash it down I requested cucumber juice from the wide variety available. I saw a man sitting to the far end of the counter and went up to him inquiring if he was the owner, to which he humbly replied yes. Immediately I engaged him into conversation and found out the following:
The concept of King Ital came about when "Prince" or "Ital", as he is called, used to run "boat" with his friends back in the late 70's. Embracing the Rastafarian faith, he managed to influence his friends to eat ital food. Gradually, demand for his cooking increased as persons from outside his circle of friends got wind of his skills and started requesting a cut of the "boat". He decided to "set up shop" operating from his then place of residence at 95 West Street. After operating for a while at the said location he relocated to the United States of America on a different venture, where he stayed for one year. He then returned, this time operating from 46 Beeston Street. However, in the political violence of 1980 demand fell drastically after a young man was killed by gunmen in the shop while buying a slice of pudding. He closed for 1 year and 6 months but re-opened at 18 Slipe Road upon receiving encouragement and an offer from a friend, who now resides in New York, to patronize his rent until business picked up. At this point, he got emotional in sharing his story as he reflected on the struggles. In 1998, however, the landlord sold the property forcing him to relocate to 148 Half Way Tree Road. Unfortunately, operating business at that location was "a disaster from day one" he said. During his tenure there he did not make enough money to cover his monthly expenses and therefore relocated to the present location at 4 Caledonia Crescent in 2002. The demand at this location, he says, is "up and down" because a large percentage of his customers attend tertiary institutions around the area which reflect a decline when school is on break. He has also seen a decline in demand since he suffered a stroke in October 2012 which resulted in him having to hire a chef to take over his culinary duties. "I have never owed rent before and I am in debt of two months rent now." He broke into tears again and I consoled him by holding his hand and rubbing his shoulder. His medical expenses have dipped drastically into the profits of the business. His son took over after he suffered the stroke but got frustrated after a while. In an optimistic tone, however, he stated that he finds that he is getting stronger with each day and is looking forward to come back and take control of his business.
My meal came up to a total of $430.00
Please see my previous post, entitled "A crying man", to read about the miraculous bond and spirit of humanitarianism that Prince and I experienced during our talk.
View pictures below.
Toodles.
I scanned the menu board, made some inquiries and ordered a mixed plate of "tun" cornmeal, rice and peanut, chunks and beans, ital stew, ackee and saltfish topped with steamed vegetables. To wash it down I requested cucumber juice from the wide variety available. I saw a man sitting to the far end of the counter and went up to him inquiring if he was the owner, to which he humbly replied yes. Immediately I engaged him into conversation and found out the following:
The concept of King Ital came about when "Prince" or "Ital", as he is called, used to run "boat" with his friends back in the late 70's. Embracing the Rastafarian faith, he managed to influence his friends to eat ital food. Gradually, demand for his cooking increased as persons from outside his circle of friends got wind of his skills and started requesting a cut of the "boat". He decided to "set up shop" operating from his then place of residence at 95 West Street. After operating for a while at the said location he relocated to the United States of America on a different venture, where he stayed for one year. He then returned, this time operating from 46 Beeston Street. However, in the political violence of 1980 demand fell drastically after a young man was killed by gunmen in the shop while buying a slice of pudding. He closed for 1 year and 6 months but re-opened at 18 Slipe Road upon receiving encouragement and an offer from a friend, who now resides in New York, to patronize his rent until business picked up. At this point, he got emotional in sharing his story as he reflected on the struggles. In 1998, however, the landlord sold the property forcing him to relocate to 148 Half Way Tree Road. Unfortunately, operating business at that location was "a disaster from day one" he said. During his tenure there he did not make enough money to cover his monthly expenses and therefore relocated to the present location at 4 Caledonia Crescent in 2002. The demand at this location, he says, is "up and down" because a large percentage of his customers attend tertiary institutions around the area which reflect a decline when school is on break. He has also seen a decline in demand since he suffered a stroke in October 2012 which resulted in him having to hire a chef to take over his culinary duties. "I have never owed rent before and I am in debt of two months rent now." He broke into tears again and I consoled him by holding his hand and rubbing his shoulder. His medical expenses have dipped drastically into the profits of the business. His son took over after he suffered the stroke but got frustrated after a while. In an optimistic tone, however, he stated that he finds that he is getting stronger with each day and is looking forward to come back and take control of his business.
My meal came up to a total of $430.00
Please see my previous post, entitled "A crying man", to read about the miraculous bond and spirit of humanitarianism that Prince and I experienced during our talk.
View pictures below.
Toodles.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)