Bahamian Social System: A Collage

Muddo. Some of you may have also receieved this image via email but I could not resist adding it to my blog. I was in stitches! I would love to meet the person that put this together. Wow.

Guerrero

Re-Shuffling the Race Cards 4 (On Whiteness and Being Bahamian)

On Whiteness and Being Bahamian

(By Helen Klonaris, helenklonaris@hotmail.com)

Dear Editor,
Please allow me space in your newspaper for the following long overdue letter:

As a Greek Bahamian who grew up in Nassau, my life has been deeply and profoundly influenced by African Bahamian culture. For me, I have come to understand, this has been a privilege which afforded me lessons, insights and ways of seeing and being I could not have learned anywhere else; certainly not in America, where the majority anglo populations again and again turn away from the possibility of creating something new out of real engagement with communities of colour; the possibilities for transformation that the perspectives of non-white cultures might offer.

It is with a recurring sadness then, that I have read the letters of Dr. Russell, of Professor Moss, of Mr. George Capron, all of whom have spoken from their hearts and minds regarding the reality of racism in our country. I say ‘recurring sadness’ because this is an old discussion, one ‘we’ (white and black and everyone in between) haven’t really had. A conversation that white Bahamians by and large, either want to dismiss, with common phrases such as “I don’t think about race,” “race doesn’t come into it,” or “we’re over that”, or, become defensive and speak of “reverse racism”, that “the tables have turned” and white people are now the victims of Black oppression. (This particular accusation is founded upon the lack of knowledge of what ‘racism’ really means… but more about that in paragraphs to come.)

I recently reread these letters, remembering that if I want and need this conversation to happen, I have to enter it, and speak. Eventually, I found my way back to the interview Christian Campbell recorded with Mr. Brent Symonette in The Weekender, May 27-29, 2005. I needed to see first hand the statements being responded to by Dr. Russell and others. I needed to see for myself what kind of leadership I could expect from Mr. Symonette.

What I read in that interview was shocking at first, but, I had to admit, disturbingly representative of a vast number of white Bahamians, especially of middle and upper classes. It could take pages to unpack all that was said there, (not said there) and perhaps one day it will, but for now, let me say that it concerns me terribly that in 2005 (2006) the consciousness of white leadership around issues of race and culture remains grossly stunted, without vision, without the twin forces of emotional integrity and intellectual honesty. And perhaps it is possible to run a small business without any of these qualities, (in a capitalist’s nirvana – where human spirit and human life are not part of the equation,) but a country is not a small business, it is communities of human beings who are struggling to make it; communities of human beings struggling to know how to live together in a small place; communities of human beings, the majority of whom are struggling to keep soul intact when body is hard-pressed to make a living, hard-pressed to love herself, himself, in a global environment that does not value the lives of Caribbean people, of Black people, of Indigenous people anywhere.

It concerns me that a leader who is white and Bahamian could express wonder at why race is still an issue in today’s Bahamas. That somehow “to come to grips with our history” means to accept it and move on. I think what white Bahamians really mean when we say this is “Black people should accept what happened and move on…” What we are really saying is “I don’t want to have to think about how I as a white person have developed an identity in an age of racism; I don’t want to have to think about how four hundred years of European enslavement of Africans affected who I am today.”

We don’t want to have to think about white privilege and how it most certainly does affect how we live in the world, perceive ourselves, how others perceive us, our presumed power. We don’t want to have to think about the legacy of whiteness, regardless of whether our foreparents were slave holders or not; how whiteness developed as a system of standards and values and ways of desiring in the world – a system that thrives still and assimilates into it anyone who is standing too close to a television set, (or just standing…) with ears to hear and hope for sale.
But Mr. Symonette doesn’t want to reflect on what the differences might be between Blacks and whites in this country. “You’re a Bahamian, I’m a Bahamian, end of subject,” he tells Campbell. Further on he does not acknowledge that segregation may exist along racial lines, asking Campbell: “Are we making this an issue when it isn’t?”

It is too easy to use the word ‘Bahamian’ to excuse ourselves from having to talk about the differences between us, too easy to accuse others of seeing something ‘not really there’, so that anyone who brings up race is deemed fanatical, somehow, suspicious, as though they are seeing ghosts. (And, perhaps they are.)

It concerns me that a leader who is white and Bahamian can continue to perpetuate the confused notion that (alleged) discrimination of a white person by a Black person is “racism in reverse”. What is not discussed in these overly simplified debates is that racism is about power within a well defined (local and global) system of relationships; it is not simply a dislike of a person because of their skin colour. This system of relationships forms a structure, one that systematically imposes the values, standards, ways of being, ways of seeing, ways of doing and speaking of one race upon another race of people. Because structure, like the walls and supporting beams of a house, is so omni-present, it is difficult sometimes to notice it at all, (especially when we don’t have to notice it, when we are comfortable inside that house, when we profit from the structures being exactly where they are).

We may think that what is racism are the accessories in the house – a history book that tells a one-sided story, lying on a coffee table. So we get rid of everything antiquated, (perhaps), throw out the books, (perhaps), take down pictures of the Queen, perhaps. But the overall structure is still there, and in this age, it is a white structure, (think about educational curricula, think about the legal system, Judeo Christian church hierarchies, the English language itself) and it carries on what it set out to do: perpetuate white values, standards, ways of being and seeing, ways of doing and speaking – to the exclusion (suppression, condemnation, ghettoization) of any other structures, i.e. ways of thinking, seeing, being that belong to other cultures, in our case, African.
Within the context of the Bahamas, which is not separate from the larger economic and political realities of the world, a Black person might be ‘prejudiced’, may call into question a white person’s trustworthiness, but I would hesitate greatly before using the term ‘racist’, since I think white people globally and locally still maintain economic power, and since the social structures most of us live within here are largely defined by white (European and American) cultural value systems.

Dr. Russell made a vital point in his explanation of “ontological whiteness” (November 29, 2005) as a perspective that not only imposes its values upon others, but also “insists upon the masses having a sustained collective amnesia about history, so that its grotesque face and diabolical actions can be washed away in a river of forgetfulness”.
I agree that the key to colonialism’s success, to whiteness perpetuating itself, is a cultivated amnesia: rob people of their memories and they have no where to go, nothing to go back to. (All the better to seduce you, control you, create you in the image of the colonizer, my dear.) What is not always recognized is the way in which those perpetuating oppression must also teach themselves to forget, to not know, so that they can continue to justify who they are and the structures that they are committed to, in spite of the suffering these same structures have and continue to cause in the lives of others.

What I found most disturbing in this interview, which I think is also reflective of the wider white Bahamian community, is precisely this cultivated forgetting; an overwhelming sense of denial expressed by Mr. Symonette so absolutely, so completely in almost every sentence. He denies thinking about race as an issue; he denies thinking about the possibility of his African ancestry; he denies thinking about why his class or wealth should be a matter of discussion; he denies that the legacy of 400 years of white colonialism (and in particular his ancestral lineage) has had any influence on the way he sees the world today. But perhaps most striking to me, and perhaps most frightening, was his admission that African Bahamian history and culture have nothing to do with him, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. And here, I must again quote what Mr. Symonette himself purportedly said when asked by Campbell why it is that white Bahamians “find it difficult to celebrate African-rooted culture”?

Mr. Symonette responded; “My heritage is France, hence the name “Symonette.” France to England and possibly to Bermuda and then here. When Alfred Sears stood up and talked about Clifton, he painted this very emotional picture of the black slave captured in Africa (sic) and landing into freedom in The Bahamas. I didn’t come that route. (Italics mine). So my cultural history isn’t based in the navel string of Mother Africa, so how can you ask me to celebrate that heritage?”

After reading this sentence, I felt winded, the breath knocked from me. I had read a portion of it in Dr. Russell’s letter, but reading the entire conversation trounced me. “I didn’t come that route”, said Mr. Symonette. As if African slavery and the arrival of white colonialists were not connected; as if the two histories are not integrally, irreversibly intertwined and still to this day rub up against each other and hurt when rain is coming, when hurricanes start brewing, when it is just another ordinary day in a small place and we don’t know how to look each other in the eye and tell the truth.

I cannot identify with Mr. Symonette’s feeling. I am only the granddaughter of immigrants, still arriving in so many ways, and yet, my own experience has rooted me in an African and Greek cultural reality which I could not shake if I wanted to. I do feel that the history of my sisters and brothers of African descent in this place is now a part of my history, and that my Greek history must also be a part of theirs. I not only want to celebrate “that heritage”, I want to love the people connected to it, people I consider to be my people. I am no longer one, here in this new world. I am more than one.

Know also that I have grown up in this body, in this white skin, and am conscious of what racism feels like, looks like, the power it has to keep me from wanting to tell the truth. I am conscious of what white privilege feels like, how it can separate me from Black people, because it is supposed to; how if I don’t see it for what it is, I too could be duped into believing that whiteness and all that comes with it is the way; see everything and everybody not white through that white light that distorts faces, cultures, histories, makes them all seem less than ‘mine’.
The story Mr. Symonette is telling covers up a deeper one, one that is harder to hear and to tell. White people aren’t used to being that uncomfortable. Not used to having our identities shake along with the structures we were born into or bought into, one way or another. And the truth is, in the Bahamas, we haven’t had to challenge ourselves much. Majority rule is one thing, having economic power is another. The ground under our feet didn’t shake, much. Most of the same old buildings are still standing. We’re still right here, aren’t we?

And yet, there is hope; there is hope in the nature of stories: stories want to be told. Stories refuse to be kept down or hidden. They find ways to rise up to the surface of things. And when they do, they can’t help but change everything. True true stories are rebels. They have the power to liberate people. From our own lies. Even when we are afraid. True true stories grab us up and pull us trembling to places we never thought we would go. True true stories are the voices at the back of our head, dangerous, persistent, inconvenient, shocking. It is the courageous man who listens to the true true stories, and upon hearing them, speaks.

Sincerely,
Helen Klonaris
New College of California,
San Francisco, CA
January 28, 2006

Re-Shuffling the Race Cards 3

16th January 2006
The Bahama Journal

Former MP Says Majority Rule Turned Tables On Discrimination

For white Bahamians, Majority Rule meant that many of them faced discrimination under the new black government following the historic 1967 vote, according to Michael Lightbourne, a former member of parliament who was the special guest on Love 97’s “Jones and Company” on Sunday.

"I guess those who were against the UBP (United Bahamian Party) said the UBP did the same thing," said Mr. Lightbourne, who worked for the UBP during its campaign in the 60s. "(White) people were discriminated against when it came to employment opportunities, for instance applications for jobs and this would have cut both ways."

He said when Majority Rule happened, he realized that the UBP would never see the government again unless black leaders came in and took it over. "I think there were a lot of persons who felt, for whatever reason, the UBP – and in many ways it’s because of what the PLP said about it – had a bad connotation. So people who you would want to come and take over just, for whatever reason, felt they didn’t want to join that organization because of the connotation it had."

Mr. Lightbourne said the PLP had the weapon of race at its disposal and used it.

Asked whether the party was still using this weapon, he responded, "They’re still using it, but I’m not sure they’re as successful as they used to be. I’m sure they’re not. A lot of Bahamians want to move on from that."

Mr. Lightbourne said the UBP was not directly responsible for discrimination at hotels and in other pubic areas because it was an era ushered in before its time.

"Certain things happen [that] you can’t change," he said. "It’s something that evolved and [they] found it there and things don’t change too quickly, unfortunately."

Mr. Lightbourne conceded that the discrimination that took place under the UBP "should be regretted by everyone."

"But what would I apologize for? I hope I never hurt anybody’s feelings or did something to make them feel inferior to me," he said.
The show’s host, Wendall Jones, asked Mr. Lightbourne whether he thought former members of the UBP who are still alive are apologetic for the way black Bahamians were discriminated against under their rule.
Mr. Lightbourne said, "I can’t speak for anyone, but myself. I’m sure every one of them is sorry that those things were in place, but by the same token, the PLP, should they apologize for discriminating against persons during their regime who they did not give licenses to? Citizenship [to]?"

Responding to a question, he said it was a mistake on the part of the UBP not to let any black Bahamian into the inner sanctum of the party.
Mr. Lightbourne’s appearance on "Jones and Company" came five days after the 39th anniversary of Majority Rule was observed.
Appearing on another Love 97 talk show on Tuesday, one of the architects of Majority Rule, Sir Arthur Foulkes said the advent of Majority Rule in The Bahamas will most likely not be properly commemorated or recognized as an event of importance and significance to persons of all political persuasions and ethnic groups until an inclusive, non-partisan approach to the historic development is promoted.

Re-Shuffling the Race Cards 2

“Who’s really playing the race card?”
(page 4, Tuesday, December 13, 2005, The Tribune, The Bahamas)

EDITOR, The Tribune

As a Bahamian who has lived abroad for the past two decades, I may be somewhat out of touch, but not by much. I use the internet to stay abreast of current events therefore I feel qualified to comment on a topical issue which can balloon into an emotional firestorm to the detriment of all. I speak of the race issue in The Bahamas.

I find it absolutely amazing that in 2005 when supporters of the PLP refer to skin colour, it is said that they are replaying the race card; that they are being divisive; they are digging up old bones from a bygone era. Yet, the minute Brent Symonette and Hubert Ingraham were coronated by the FNM and dubbed the salt and pepper team, Michael Jackson’s “Ebony and Ivory” played in the background: they passed this off as being inclusive.

Black Bahamians cannot allow themselves to be sucked into the clutches of utopia in order to fulfil someone’s political agenda. The fact is the Bahamas is still very much a race-driven, colour conscious society.

If you doubt me, look at the obituary pages of the newspaper: white people send their loved ones to Pinder and Kemp—exclusively. If you don’t believe me, check out the Public Service. Why are there virtually no white Police, Defence, Prison, Immigration, customs officers? Why are there virtually no white Bahamian teachers in the Public school system? Why are there no white Bahamian straw vendors, hotel workers or taxi drivers? How do you explain this? They can’t blame the “racist” PLP; the FNM was in power for ten years.

If you don’t believe me, explain this: black Bahamians spend millions of dollars with Kelly’s, John S. George, Asa Pritchard, et al. When was the last time you saw a white Bahamian shopping at Milo Butler, eating at the Reef or worshipping at Zion Baptist Church? They want economic inclusion but practice social apartheid.

Frankly, from my standpoint, the comments about Brent Symonette from the PLP cannot possibly be because he is a white Bahamian. Edison Key did rather well in the PLP, so did Marvin Pinder, Jonathan Simms and countless others. Indeed, it is the PLP that to this day owns the distinction of having appointed the country’s only white Bahamian to the high post of Governor General—Sir Henry Taylor. So all the talk about One Bahamas is just talk!

Talk to me about One Bahamas when white Bahamians participate in Junkanoo; when they attend the Bahamas Games; when they fly Bahamasair to Miami; when they patronise Lil Generals; when they go to Fish Fry and when they participate in The Love games – all of which have nothing to do with the PLP. Talk to me about One Bahamas when my son can date Brent Symonette’s daughter. That’ll be the day.

Black Bahamians can be duped if they wish. Trust me, white Bahamians, by and large, love you when you’re spending and when you are prepared to give them their country back. Other than that, they’re not checking. They have economic power. We are where we are today because we’ve held political power. Give them the whole hog if you wish. The United States is over 200 years old and a black Vice President is unthinkable. What’s our hurry?

It took generations to dismantle colonialism and generations to cast away tokenism. We still wrestle with an entrenched oligopoly. Therefore, for us to believe that we can fuse together One Bahamas in thirty years is a pipe dream. Indeed, only blacks want this—whites do not.

If white Bahamians make up less than 15 per cent of the population but in 2005 control in excess of 85 per cent of the wealth, then obviously many black Bahamians still feel that white is right and the lighter the better. That is why they run to City Lumber and JBR all week long and rush to Hanna’s and Cartwright’s on Sundays when the “real stores” are closed. That is why black Bahamians flock to Kentucky but whites stay clear of Bamboo Shack or Bertha’s. That is why blacks are dying for their children to go to St. Andrew’s but white Bahamians hardly send their children to SAC—which has the best passes in national exams.

The evidence is crystal clear. White Bahamians, though not all of them, couldn’t stand Hubert Ingraham as long as he was a PLP. The minute he became an FNM he was their saviour—come to save them from the political governance by black Bahamians. Never mind that Ingraham, Turnquest, Foulkes, et al are all black. Somehow the white Bahamians feel that with them in the vehicle of power the white Bahamian would be behind the wheel.

That, my dear friends, is the social psychology of racism in The Bahamas.

FELIX MOSS, PhD
Professor
University of California
Nassau
December 9, 2005

Re-Shuffling the Race Cards 1

Gapseed Massive,

Now back from a whirlwind trip in NYC. Finally getting around to re-posting the articles on 'race' that I posted before I set up the blog. I really also want to get some dialogue going about class in The Bahamas, which is an issue that is a bit more insidious as it is not headline-newsworthy yet structures social relations in this country in so many subtle and more glaring ways.

On the Forward,

cac

THE BAHAMA JOURNAL
29th November 2005

Letter To The Editor

Brent Symonette "Ontologically White"

Dear Editor:

Please allow me space in your daily for a comment.
Friedrick Nietzsche advances the idea, in his monumental work The Genealogy of Morals, that there are no 'truths' only 'perspectives'. With this dictum in mind I offer the following analysis.

There is much talk, still, about Mr. Brent Symonette being a white man. If the discussion continues to be about the color of his skin, we are wasting valuable time and energy debating the blatantly obvious. What may not be so apparent--and is far more important--is that Mr. Symonette is ontologically white. That is: whiteness is the grid out of which he thinks and makes decisions. It's okay to think white if the job for which you are vying is writing editorials for The Tribune, but if, potentially, you are seeking a national office in a country predominantly populated by black people then it is not permissible.

Ontological whiteness is elitist. It is insensitive to the plight of suffering, struggling masses of people, who, in this country, happens to be black. This is not the case everywhere in the world where ontological whiteness holds or is trying to gain power. In some cases the masses are brown, yellow--even white.

Moreover, ontological whiteness perceives itself to be superior, with some innate, God-given right to rule the masses. It is restless until it achieves this goal. Further, it believes its particular world view and cultural perspectives to be universal, ignoring all others or relegating them to a place of inferiority. But what is most disturbing about this insidious human aberration is that it insists upon the masses having a sustained collective amnesia about history, so that its grotesque face and diabolical actions can be washed away in a river of forgetfulness.
To be sure, there are white-skinned Bahamians who are not ontologically white, but Mr. Symonette is not one of them. And this evaluation of Mr. Symonette by many Bahamians is not pulled out of the ether; it is a matter of record.

For example, when he was briefly the Minister of Tourism and faced with the human dilemma of whether to close a government hotel that was losing money, or to keep it open allow struggling Bahamians to keep a job, Mr. Symonette' s decision was in favor of closing it down.
Of course, if a hotel closes Mr. Symonette would not miss any meals and his bills will still be paid. He doesn't concern himself with the masses who would be caught in this predicament. For him market forces take precedence over suffering people. This is the thinking of ontological whiteness.

Another audacious display of this thinking process occurred when he was chairman of the Airport Authority. He offered a contract for work at the airport to his company (to himself). Of course, to every ethical person--who is not blinded by the torch--this is a conflict of interest and abuse of power. At least it is to any person not infected by ontological whiteness.
But, alas, Mr. Symonette is unrepentant. In an interview years later conducted by Christian Campbell, in the Weekender of May 27-29, 2005, Mr. Symonette was asked about his decision to award himself a contract; he stated: "I'd do it again tomorrow because it was the right decision. It was the cheapest price. The mistake I made was not getting the board to approve it."

Astonishing! But he is thinking from his grid. He has not changed because he cannot change. It is who he is: by nature and nurture. This is his being. He thinks white. His ilk is defined by this kind of arrogance, and is used to not being accountable to any law outside themselves. He is incapable of thinking his way into the shoes of the masses. It is not in him. He has no map, no tools to find his way in. Every policy he would formulate and every decision he would make would disproportionately benefit a private precinct of power and, in the end, adversely affect the masses. He is not fit for national office because he is incapable of a national thought.

In a final example, during the same interview Mr. Campbell asks: 'Why is it that 'white' Bahamians find it difficult to celebrate African-rooted culture, which is also their culture?" Mr. Symonette responds: "My heritage is France, hence the name 'Symonette'. France to England and possibly to Bermuda and then here...I didn't come that route (meaning the African slave route). So my cultural history isn't based in the navel string of Mother Africa, so how can you ask me to celebrate that heritage." Unbelievable! And this man, potentially, wants a national office in a country where 98% of the population--himself included--has roots in Africa. (It would strengthen my argument at this point to include here his evasive and dismissive comments when asked about the presence of blackness in his immediate ancestry, but I find it to painful to write.)

This is why Mr. Symonette's very presence on the ticket conjures up three hundred years of ugly Bahamian history, where blacks (and some whites) were marginalized, demonized and dehumanized. It isn't the color of his skin, it's the color of his thinking. Some white people marched alongside blacks to gain the freedoms we all now enjoy. Mr. Symonette is not one of them. Although it is a historical fact that most people infected with this ontological disposition have been, and are, white, the sad fact is that many people with black skins are ontologically white. They think from the same elitist, insensitive, superior, self-deprecating grid.
As for Mr. Ingraham, understandably, I don't get the same visceral feelings regarding, his presence on the F.N .M.' s ticket. Yet, I have never liked his brash, insensitive, dictator style of leadership. In my opinion, it is inconsistent with the deepening of democracy. In addition, there are those of us in Grand Bahama who still remember his caustic remarks to working Bahamians with the closing of the Lucayan Beach Casino. Some of us still remember how long the Lucayan strip was closed; remember the construction company who came to rebuild it running off with Bahamians' paychecks. We remember Gulf Union Bank. We know who to charge with the debacle of the former Princess Hotel Property. And some of us can discern in Mr. Ingraham's recent actions the Pilate syndrome: the symbolic washing of hands, denying responsibility for or culpability in the sacrifice of innocence. The human slaughter of sons has long been rejected by God with Abraham on Mt. Mariah.

All of the above is a matter of record. None of it can be obfuscated from the acute eyes and keen memory of the Bahamian public by the jubilant gyrations and genuflecting of Mr. Ingraham's hypnotized supporters. Still, I have always been appreciative of Mr. Ingraham's willingness to serve, his willingness to put he and his family under fire. This is no small contribution, notwithstanding his delusions in the present circumstances. Thank you, sir.

And so, the show is over. It was interesting and exciting, with drama and intrigue, full of pump and pageantry, rising balloons and falling confetti, but with Mr. Ingraham and Mr. Symonette as the headliners, I don't think that the Bahamian people, the majority of whom are the working class, can afford the price of the ticket.

Sincerely,

Dr. Keith A. Russell

CARIBBEAN EROTICA

I have two poems coming out in this. Yall think the Bahamas Christian Council have anything to submit?

bless,
cac


CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

EROTIQUE CARIBBEAN: An Anthology of Caribbean Erotica
Edited by Opal Palmer Adisa & Donna Weir-Soley

"There are frequent attempts to equate pornography and eroticism, two diametrically opposed uses of the sexual. Because of these attempts, it has become fashionable to separate the spiritual from the political, to see them as contradictory and antithetical….The dichotomy between the spiritual and the political is also false, resulting from an incomplete attention to our erotic knowledge. For the bridge which connects them is formed by the erotic--the sensual--those physical, emotional, and psychic expressions of what is deepest and strongest and richest within each of us, being shared…." Audre Lorde

Despite the proliferation of sexual images in popular cultural forms of the Caribbean, such as Calypso, Soca, and Dance Hall, historically there has been a noticeable lack of representations of sexuality in the literature that comes out of that region. More recently some works by Caribbean writers (male and female) have addressed sexuality and eroticism both explicitly and implicitly. How has enslavement and colonialism impacted Caribbean people's freedom to express sexuality and eroticism in literature? Can the erotic ever be considered a site for poetic discourse? As Caribbean people carve out a place for themselves in the 21st Century, are they more able to express pleasure and desire of the flesh?

This anthology seeks to provide a forum for Caribbean writers to get undressed in the literary genres and explore the full realm of the erotic.

We make a distinction between erotic and pornographic, the latter being gratuitous. We seek works that explore the interplay between sexuality and spirituality, sexuality and nature, sexuality as liberation and claiming one's own space.

Deadline: END OF SUMMER 2006
We are seeking poetry, prose, and creative essays.
Submit no more than five (5) poems; Prose should be twenty (20) pages or less.
We seek to publish work that has not been published elsewhere, but might consider some previously published prose excerpts.

SUBMISSIONS MUST BE IN ENGLISH TRANSLATION.
Include separate title page with name, address, email address and phone number.
Query: Opal Palmer Adisa at Opalwrites@sbcglobal.net
or Donna Weir-Soley at weirsole@fiu.edu

Please send submissions - 2 copies with SASE to:
Dr. Donna Weir-Soley, Department of English, Academic 1 350
Florida International University, 3000 NE 151 Street
North Miami, Fl 33181

Opal Palmer Adisa is the author of Caribbean Passion & It Begins With Tears. Her erotic poems and stories have been included in the following anthologies: Erotique Noire: Black Erotica; Eros;
Drum Voices; and The Best Black Women Erotica II. She is a Professor of literature and creative writing at California College of the Arts.

Donna Weir-Soley's poetry has appeared in MaComere, Moving Beyond Boundaries/Part One, The Caribbean Writer, Frontiers, and the online journal Gulf-streaming. She is an Assistant Professor of English at Florida International University.

MIRACLE WATER

(Published on April 7, 2006 in The Nassau Guardian's special supplement on religion, "A Measure of Faith in The Bahamas")

Copyright ã by Christian Campbell

In August 2005, Bishop Lawrence Rolle of The International Deliverance Praying Ministry, better known as “The Singing Prophet,” announced to the Bahamian public that God instructed him in a vision to pray over bottles of water that would heal people of illness. This water which, according to Mindell Small in The Nassau Guardian, included 12 ounce bottles of “Crystal Select, Arctic, Zephyrhills, Aquapure and Chelsea's Choice. . .” (“‘Dead Man’ Report Fiasco,” September 9, 2005) was sold for $5, $2 or $1 depending on your source of information. And this was at least part of the problem— the wildfire ‘storyin’ about the details of the Miracle Water incident. As Small reports, Rolle boldly proclaimed the miracles as if they were modern-day parables: “A man testified that a brain tumour, as big as a chicken egg, disappeared out of his head. A girl had a slipped shoulder disc and couldn't lift her arm and was crying in pain. The power of the Lord came down and they were healed.”

In a press release sent by the Golden Gates World Outreach Ministries and signed by its senior pastor, Ros Davis, it was alleged that a man was raised, Lazarus-style, from the dead after being anointed with Rolle’s Miracle Water. According to Small, this report was completely inaccurate: “Bishop Rolle admitted that the information he received on the incident was second hand as he did not see the man on the street, nor was he at the hospital where the anointing reportedly took place.” Davis gave the same confession. After the deluge of Miracle Water had covered The Bahamas, Rolle (and Davis, by association) lost all credibility when it was revealed that they were relaying sensationalised misinformation. Many accused them of being charlatans, televangelist-style ‘false preachers’ primarily interested in status and financial gain. On September 18, 2005, Bahamasuncensored.com reported that “Bishop Lawrence Rolle, the so-called Singing Prophet, has now confessed that he made some $50,000 so far on his holy water.” Rolle’s justification to the media was that the proceeds from the water were donated to the poor. How is it that Rolle could be at once the laughingstock of The Bahamas and a “Christ Figure” for thousands of Bahamians seeking out his Miracle Water? More than the drama of the incident in and of itself, the complexities and contradictions of the “Miracle Water” fiasco allow me to attend to the intersections of religion, power, social relations and culture in Bahamian society.

A recent commercial to promote national pride features a classroom of schoolchildren, who appear to be about 6 years old, declaring what is unique and beautiful about The Bahamas. After the obligatory excitement about our ‘sun, sand and sea’ and (gasp!) our culture, a little girl explains, almost in the voice of a preacher, “We are a CHRISTIAN nation!” And finally the whole class shouts, “The Bahamas is the best country in the WORLD!” From so-high to old-and-gray, Bahamians have an acute awareness of the centrality of Christianity to Bahamian society. Judeo-Christian values and codes of conduct permeate every aspect of Bahamian life. The preacher and the politician, who borrows the rhetorical mode of the preacher, have the most powerful voices in this society. More specifically, a certain brand of Christianity, Christian fundamentalism, is the most pervasive ideology and public discourse in The Bahamas. That is, I am distinguishing between Christianity generally and fundamentalism, which shapes the dominant religious discourse, institutions and figures in The Bahamas. I understand Christian fundamentalism in The Bahamas as having to do with the fundamental infallibility of the Bible; it is a document that should be taken literally and as law, as opposed to seeing it as a spiritual-historical text that requires contextual interpretation. Christian fundamentalism prioritises evangelism, though in The Bahamas the work of spreading the Gospel often becomes authoritarian in its consistent intervention into formal political processes. Christian fundamentalism is also anti-intellectual in that it views faith, not as an ongoing process of reasoning and spiritual development, but as an unchallengeable dogma, a state of sanctimonious perfection, a finished process.

Christianity is so complex, particularly for people of African descent, because while it has historically been one of the primary tools of our oppression, it has also become a source of resistance and renewal. But what is important for us in this moment (and here I mean all Bahamians of all races) is to distinguish the ways in which Christianity can be and has been oppressive. In The Bahamas, the Christian Church (represented by ‘dominant Christianity,’ its most powerful figures and institutions), the Government and the United States of America (as neo-coloniser) make up a kind of trinity of the power structure. In The Bahamas, dominant Christianity effectively works in concert with formal politics, tourism and (neo-)colonial values particularly because it demands obedience from Bahamian people; authority should not be challenged and the power structure should not be questioned.

As the Miracle Water fiasco illustrates, faith in the context of dominant Christianity has more to do with self-deception than anything else, rooted in a ‘What you don’t know can’t hurt you’ mentality. We believe what we need to believe. If it sounds good or looks good, it is unquestionably good. Artifice matters most, which points very directly to our aspirations and, more so, to our desperation. It is as though we create a kind of mirage of the world that we want and shun anything that challenges or complicates that image. The abundance of “flam artists” (with fake degrees, for instance) in the Church and in The Bahamas generally is a case in point. It’s almost as though we value artifice so much and are so desperate that, as a Bahamian explained to me, we will patronise the more elaborate frauds, even when we suspect that we are being duped.

Again, we believe what we need to believe. If we need to deceive ourselves into thinking The Bahamas is a Christian nation, that we are a rich country, that we aren’t a part of the Caribbean, that America cares about us, that those Bahamians that identify as ‘white’ have no African ancestry, that there are not many gay and lesbian Bahamians, that many of us do not have Haitian ancestry and so on, we will do so. If we need to believe that a bottle of Chelsea’s Choice water will fix all of our problems without any work on our part, we will do so. If we need to believe that a newly-minted Bahamian millionaire will pay off our mortgage and other bills, we will do so. We are such a desperate people.

Another problem with dominant Christianity in The Bahamas is that it encourages a surrendering of individual responsibility. Do we only pray that God will take care of it or do we pray and use our will and divine gifts to address our many challenges? We have a serious messianic complex when it comes to leadership. We give our pastors too much power. But most of all we give politicians too much power. And this is certainly a Pan-Caribbean problem. Think of the Biblical names that we bestow on them—Pindling became Moses, Manley became Joshua, etc. When will we realise that they will not and cannot save us? Not Ping, not Perry, not Portia, not Panday. The ominous return of Hubiggity will not save us. They are humans and, in fact, public servants. Sustainable social transformation can only come from communities of people that hold themselves and each other accountable for their given community.

The anti-intellectualism and artifice of dominant Christianity indeed shapes public discourse generally. The language of the Church has become a rhetorical trump card, particularly for politicians. If we say ‘pray’ or ‘Jesus’ or ‘Christian nation,’ then our arguments will fly no matter what we say. In fact, they will become unchallengeable. The words of the little girl in the commercial are no accident; our national motto is actually “We are a Christian nation.” This statement, a reiteration of the power of this religion, completely disavows and miraculously erases the numbers of Bahamian Rastafarians, Jews, Hindus, Muslims and so on. In the discourse of ‘dominant Christianity,’ they disappear, POOF, into thin air.

Dominant Christianity is so powerful in The Bahamas that most politicians campaign within certain churches. Moreover, the Bahamas Christian Council has become a frightening entity that operates like an apparatus of the State and as the voice of the people. The Bahamas Christian Council, our very own ‘Morality Militia,’ speaks from a place of self-righteousness, supremacy and deep hypocrisy. It is an actual and obvious manifestation of the way in which dominant Christianity serves as a kind of disciplinary order and fuels the conservative politics of Bahamian governments. The recent banning of the film, Brokeback Mountain, by the Bahamian Plays and Films Control Board under recommendation from the Christian Council is also a horrifying and dangerous example of the power of dominant Christianity in The Bahamas. Only in non-democratic dictatorships can an organisation so blatantly violate the rights and freedoms of an entire people.

Indeed, the miracle that we need is not in the quick fix of prayed-over Aquapure. It is in coming to terms with our complex realities and using the divine gift of will, and more specifically our critical faculties, to make powerful choices in the world. That amazing grace, the miracle of the power we have been given, the miracle of our own possibilities, is what will help us to begin to see.

"The Colour of Power"

People,

Yeah, I been slunkin. I too hot-foot ya see. But woy Nassau pulsin ay! Gapseed for days-- Brokeback banning, crime spree (especially the horrifying rape sprees), hotel development stuff, culture conclave, etc. I'll get to it and I will eventually hope to post to the blog my previous e-mail posts on race. But here's an essay to take us back to that conversation-- you know us and our short memory in this country. The essay comes from Michael Stevenson, COB lecturer. The language is unnecessarily dense but it's worth the read overall.

Meditate, Process, Reason, Move!

bless,

Christian


THE COLOR OF POWER


The Nassau Institute’s letter, published in the February 17 edition of The Tribune, to confront some of the central arguments addressed in a letter written by Helen Klonaris on Whiteness and Bahamian Identity, is nothing less than an elaborate display of ‘blue smoke and mirrors.’ First of all, they attempt to tackle what is, in my estimation, one of the least controversial aspects of Ms. Klonaris’ argument: that racism today has its origins in slavery. Specifically, to the argument that “racism is based on ‘four hundred years of European enslavement of Africans,’” their riposte is that, “slavery did not exist because of racial ideology.” The problem with this reply is that claiming slavery did not exist “because” of racist discourse in no way detracts from the claim that the enslaving of Africans brought about racist thinking. The use, by The Nassau Institute, of Thomas Sowell’s argument in support of their position is completely fatuous because the part of Sowell’s argument that the Institute uses concerns the causes of slavery in general. In other words, Sowell’s argument is not designed to deny the established historical fact that the practice of enslaving Africans led to the formation of a racist ideology that then served to buttress that practice. Most historians would not dare contest the view that economic conditions have served as the necessary determinants of most forms of slavery in the past. With regard to the enslavement of Africans by Europeans, Eric Williams’ classic, Capitalism and Slavery, convincingly advances the argument that slavery, as a pre-modern mode of production, was a condition that gave rise to the establishment of a modern capitalist system in the New World. At the same time, none, but the most fanatical believers in the innocence of white people, would deny that, following closely on the heels of the introduction of slavery into the New World, was the introduction of a legitimizing ideology that was created to facilitate that practice, and that at the core of this belief system was the notion of white supremacy. In short, there is no inconsistency or point of contention between, on the one hand, the argument that the enslavement of Africans had economic roots and, on the other hand, the argument that almost in tandem with the development of that malevolent institution was the formation of a way of thinking, speaking, and seeing the relations between Europeans and Africans that was organized around the belief in racial superiority.
Just as bizarre, is the way The Nassau Institute responds to what they argue is the linkage Ms. Klonaris makes in her letter between racism and economic power. Ms. Klonaris’ argument, in this regard, is simple. In explaining why she would hesitate before referring to a black person as a racist, she writes: “… I would hesitate greatly … since I think white people globally and locally still maintain economic power, and since the social structures most of us live within are largely defined by white (European and American) cultural value systems.” It is important to understand that Ms. Klonaris views these “white structures” as racist because she believes these structures have been created and maintained by white people and that these same structures dominate other (nonwhite) ways of seeing and being in a world that has rid itself of colonialism only on the surface. She writes: “We may think that what is racism are the accessories in the house – a history book that tells a one-sided story, lying on a coffee table. So we get rid of everything antiquated, (perhaps), throw out the books, (perhaps), take down pictures of the Queen, perhaps. But the overall structure is still there, and in this age, it is a white structure, (think about educational curricula, think about the legal system, Judeo Christian church hierarchies, the English language itself) and it carries on what it set out to do: perpetuate white values, standards, ways of being and seeing, ways of doing and speaking – to the exclusion (suppression, condemnation, ghettoization) of … other cultures …”
To the specific argument that the white economic order (both locally and globally) is racist because it is controlled by white people, the response by The Nassau Institute is to enter into a critique of Karl Marx’s analysis of the implications of class antagonisms. To say the least, this response by The Nassau Institute is insipid. Nowhere in Ms. Klonaris’ letter did she imply, or explicitly suggest, that she was deploying a Marxist vision of history in her analysis. To put it kindly, what the Nassau Institute has to learn is that to mention the word ‘class,’ or to refer to such an object, does not make you a Marxist - or one’s analysis - Marxian. Instead of confronting the argument about the ‘color of money’ and the racism, which Ms. Klonaris suggests is inherent within our economic system, The Nassau Institute, instead, translates the issue into a problem of class and sanitizes the problem by draining the issue of its ‘color.’ More importantly, The Nassau Institute fails to explain why this translation is needed.
In the translation process to which The Nassau Institute subjects Ms. Klonaris’ analysis, white owners of production become simply part of the racially neutralized ‘bourgeois elite,’ and the black victims of a racist economic order dissipate within the universal concept of ‘workers.’ By this means, the ‘whiteness’ of the means of production is made invisible, and the full significance of being poor and black is obfuscated. What is lost in this reconfiguration of the ‘whiteness’ thesis into the issue of class warfare, and what The Nassau Institute fails to confront and critically examine, is the full implication of Ms. Klonaris’ thesis: that, if the overall structure is white as she argues, then any nonwhite situated in this ‘white landscape,’ who may believe that they are succeeding within the system, still has to be considered a victim of white structures of power. Thus, according to this reading, a black, bourgeois capitalist who profits from the economic order is also a victim of that economic order since he or she or the racial group to whom he or she belongs, did not have a hand in creating the capitalist system and is still operating within a matrix of interlocking white structures.
This exclusionary circle of discrimination drawn around the black capitalist is a problem for those who want to make no exceptions when dismantling dominant classes wherever they are found. But talking about the ‘color of capital’ in such monolithic and essentialist terms as ‘whiteness,’ this shackling of black experience once again, is also a serious problem for the black business world. No doubt, ascendant black capitalists can undoubtedly gain from any cultural or historical arguments that help eclipse the dominance of white economic power. However, there is a huge problem, I think, in telling black owners of the means of production, or those who aspire to be, that the very economic system from which they are profiting, or stand to profit from in the future, perpetuates racism to the detriment of ‘their people’ because the structure of capitalism in postcolonial settings continues to be ‘white.’ Similarly, there is a grave problem, I think, in telling black people in the postcolonial setting that the educational, legal, political, religious, and language systems from which they may believe they are somehow benefiting is ‘white’ and not serving the ‘real interests’ of the black race because it perpetuates white ways of thinking and seeing as part of a colonial continuum. In fact, very few people, I believe, want to be told that they have been duped by the only system they know, and may even love, despite its inadequacies. Such claims simply do not often tally with the diverse and complex ways people experience ordinary life and their quotidian struggles, and are ultimately, I believe, disempowering within the postcolonial setting. And here lies one of the main difficulties concerning Ms. Klonaris’ thesis that The Nassau Institute failed to confront: her argument rests on a purely structural view of the world that must assume the existence of false consciousness, i.e., that there are people located in various forms of social structures and trapped within a matrix of institutional processes who do not know how to act in their real interest even if they believe they are, for if they did, they would not participate in those structures; would find a way out of them and then create new ones.
To be sure, a structural view of the world, even if it is critical, has the potential to become part of a colonizing mentality, for in truth it tells people that there is always someone who knows more about the problems people are experiencing than the people themselves experiencing the problems. As critique, a structural view of social life erases altogether the diverse ways people experience the social worlds they inhabit. Such critiques have no way of adequately accounting - without reducing peoples’ subjectivities to a state of “collective amnesia” or obliterating them from history altogether through some process of reduction - for the heterogeneous, complex ways people constitute one another in the course of their interactions and come to understand in their own terms these interactions, including the interactions that take place between the source of colonizing pressures and the subjects responding to such pressures.

From the beginning, the African in the New Word has been constructed in the image of the repressed subject and subjugated soul, a being stripped of all and reconstituted from the elements of a new way of being imposed by overlords. From the beginning, the African descendants in the New World have been constructed in the image of docile beings, whose world is not their own – a world into which they have been assimilated and from which they have been excluded. Thus, as the story has been told by ‘friend’ and ‘foe’ of the descendants of the transplanted people of the slave trade, those who survived the horror as other than African (as an assimilated people) in the aftermath of slavery and colonial rule, cannot be but alienated and destined to be dissociated from their milieu; cannot be responsible for anything (good or bad) about the world that they inhabit because they inherited a world that they did not create; can only be condemned either to silence or a life lacking authenticity. The various narratives that feed these constructions are powerful. As a discourse, they have entered the popular imagination at various levels and fed our obsession over the question, ‘who are we?’ Those adhering strictly to the narrative respond, almost ritually, that the world presently inhabited by the descendants of the dislocated African people of the Middle Passage is a white reality that continues to be absorbed by mimesis. It is a neo–colonial world, they argue, where the ‘guards’ of the colonial house may have changed from ‘white’ to ‘black,’ but where the house remains unchanged. Thus, Ms. Klonaris can tell a story of a white structure that is fixed and endowed almost with monolithic immutability continuing to make people, who are not white-skinned, feel inferior despite the overthrow of official colonial rule.
Let us be clear: the narratives that contain the constructions of the African Diaspora as a repressed object in the postcolonial era, if reported by the critically conscious, are told by persons who feel the pain of these stories and are themselves in pain when telling them. They are not lightly told, and people understand and relate to a partial truth in the narratives that contain these constructions. I argue that those who hear these stories, and possibly those who tell them, also realize that there is a missing narrative – one that honors the ordinary and gut experiences of people living in locations that have broken free from the official rule of colonial power. The omitted narrative relates to an intuitive understanding of what has been happening in the postcolonial period as the encounter between the persistent colonial presence and postcolonial populations continues to occur. It is the understanding that, as the postcolonial encounter continues, those freed from formal colonial rule feel themselves becoming, as a controlling force, more deeply etched within the colonial presence that they inhabit (dis we tings), while, at the same time, continuing to feel penetrated by the signature of the continuing presence of the colonizing other (dis dey tings). It is the understanding that in the space between these conflicting presences is created, in the moment of encounter, a synthesis, which, in the words of Edouard Glissant, “is not a bastardization … but a productive activity through which each element [in conflict] is enriched.”
This is not a plea to accommodate relations that give rise to the experience of domination. All forms of domination need to be resisted with as much vitality as all of us can muster. The question is really a strategic one for persons critically reflecting on the postcolonial condition within the African Diaspora: will our conceptualizations of power encourage resistance to domination within the postcolonial setting, if these conceptualizations continue to maintain the distinction between those who hold power and those who remain outside of power as its falsely conscious, docile victims, or, will they facilitate resistance because our conceptualizations of power serve to show just how implicated black postcolonial populations have become within the relations of power that constitute the heart of power. And if we decide to deploy concepts and language that suggest that the black postcolonial figure is implicated within the heart of power – the processes that shape the structures of power we all inhabit in the postcolonial setting - then what will be the color of that power, for surely it could not be ‘white’?

Sincerely,

Michael Stevenson
COB Lecturer
Nassau

Why Don't We All Just Hang Ourselves One Time?

Gapseed Massive,

I am behind-- swamped with work, swimming in paper. But we all know how it is. But me and my technologically-challenged self is actually getting the hang of this blogging ting. Nuttin could get me out of my dissertation hibernation like some powerful Bahamians talkin fool.

And yes talkin fool IS a very (VERY) serious ting. All I could say is I embarassed. This article comes originally from The Bahama Journal, but I pulled it up from www.bahamasb2b.com mainly 'cause of the brilliantly sarcastic comment they made about this article. Note well-- "Many Bahamians think capital punishment is a good idea and that certain lawyers should be the first in line for hanging. " Ha! Talk DAT!

Bless,

Guerrero


March 20, 2006 – 07:30

Bar Association President Wants Public Hangings

Many Bahamians think capital punishment is a good idea and that certain lawyers should be the first in line for hanging.
Bar Association President Wayne Munroe, a prominent defense attorney, is in full support of hangings and in fact would like to see public executions.
Mr. Munroe also told The Bahama Journal that he saw nothing wrong with the mandatory application of the death penalty. His statement came just over a week after the Privy Council ruled that the mandatory death sentence in The Bahamas is unconstitutional.
"If you want to say that somebody isn't deserving of death because of [his or her] character or something, that's something that calls for the application of mercy," he said. "I don't have a difficulty with the death penalty."
The Bar Association president said there are good reasons to keep the death penalty and it has nothing to do with deterring crime because it has been proving that executions do not serve as a deterrent.
"It's cheaper than keeping people in jail for an extended period of time," Mr. Munroe said.
"That's a consideration when you look at the government having limited resources. Do you spend those resources to house people who really should be put to death, who aren't fit to live in society, or do you spend [those resources] on education and health for the rest of society?"
It cost an estimated $10,000 to support each prisoner at Her Majesty's Prison, according to national security officials, who say there are approximately 1,500 prisoners at the facility, including those on remand.
Mr. Munroe said another good reason for the death penalty to remain law in The Bahamas is that "it satisfies the revenge sentiment in people."
"So the state takes revenge on your behalf rather than you have to personally take revenge," Mr. Munroe said.
"I think there should be public executions, and I personally think that the way the Taliban used to do it in Afghanistan is to be preferred - public executions by members of the aggrieved families. I don't think the Bahamian people would have the stomach for that. I think if you do that the death penalty would be off the book fairly quickly."
Asked what would be the benefits of public executions, Mr. Munroe explained, "We're executing in the name of the state. Why prevent the state's citizens who choose to witness it from witnessing it? For what purpose are you doing it?
"For those who talk about deterrence, how do you deter people by something they don't see? If retribution is it, how do I feel retribution and I haven't witnessed it?"
The Bar Association president suggested that if someone supports hanging, he or she should not have a problem witnessing it.
"If you cannot stomach what the state is doing on your behalf, it's because you have a problem with it," he said. "If you can't sit and watch what is being done on your behalf, it's because you fundamentally have a problem with it. I could sit and watch it because I fundamentally do not have a problem with it."
But Mr. Munroe recognized that the appeals process could easily take five years or more, which would mean that a convict would never hang given that the Privy Council has ruled that executing anyone after he or she has been under the sentence of death for five years or more would be cruel and inhuman punishment.
Approximately half of the 28 men on death row at the prison have been there for five years or more, including Forrester Bowe and Trono Davis on whose behalf the appeal challenging the mandatory death sentence was brought.
The Bahamas hanged 50 men since 1929, according to records kept at Her Majesty's Prison. Five of them were hanged under the Ingraham administration; 13 were hanged under the 25-year rule of the Pindling government; and the others were executed between 1929 and 1967.
Last week, attorney Damian Gomez, who is also a government senator, said that all of the men hanged since 1973 were hanged unconstitutionally. He made the comment after the recent Privy Council ruling said the mandatory death sentence is unconstitutional in The Bahamas.
No one has been hanged since David Mitchell met his fate at the gallows in January 2000.
While many legal scholars believe The Bahamas will end up abolishing the death penalty before anyone else is executed, many people participating in the national discussion fueled by the recent Privy Council ruling continue to call on the government to read death warrants.
Attorney General Allyson Maynard-Gibson said week before last that the cases of all death row inmates - and there are 28 - will be remitted to the Supreme Court for the sentences to be reconsidered.
However, the attorney general assured that in cases where murder convicts are sentenced to death, the Government of The Bahamas would move swiftly to ensure that their executions are carried out.
Prime Minister Perry Christie stated his support for capital punishment in January, but indicated that his government could make no movement in that regard because the mandatory death sentence appeal was at the time still outstanding.

By: Candia Dames, The Bahama Journal