Love Dvra

Growing up, I’d hear a lot about how hard work reaps real rewards. “The early bird gets the worm.” “First come, first served.” “Faith without work is dead.” Wherever you are in the world, you’ve heard a version of these parables or phrases. In schools, they are meant to motivate and warn young minds of the benefits of hard work and the perils without it. For inpressionable listeners, these parables indirectly suggest that there are favourable rewards for those who commit to working hard. The early bird did what others birds did not do, and so they received their just reward, a fat juicy worm. I’ve been thinking about how unfair it feels when you work hard and aren’t given the rewards promised. I’ve won competitions and not been given what was promised. It hurt even more to know that I needed those rewards, they were available, and due to unchecked egos and a lack of compassion and integrity, I did not get all that was due to me. Do you know how it feels to be the early bird that was robbed of their worm? You plot. You shake with rage each time life reminds you of the need that worm would have filles. Frustrated. Unsatisfied. I have worked, completed the work, praised for going above and beyond, but not been paid for almost a year. I agreed to work for a set amount of pay, but the work was more than the pay could cover. I have saved and been robbed by family and strangers. I have protected my space with a lock and key, and it was invaded and destroyed. Pillaged. How do you look at a child and give away their well-earned scholarship to someone else because their family had a dire need? When that child is called in to their school office for unpaid school fees, how should they respond, how should they feel knowing they worked hard and still did not receive the reward? I could go on about unfair treatment, but I want to see it from a different perspective. I’m tired of being tied to those feelings of disappointment, anger, and frustration. Is it possible to move on? Someone once asked me how I would feel if I were given things that felt unfair to others. What if I received favour? I said something along the lines of, “I would feel uncomfortable if I did not deserve it and would decline.” I have done that before and will continue to do so. In my experience, nothing good comes from taking what is not rightfully yours, that includes favour. However, in the context, the question was posed, I asked, “Is it favour, or did I put in the hard work that is finally being rewarded, and others assume that it is favour or luck?” Favour is great, but I don’t think favour comes to me without proper preparation and fairness. It never has. Maybe that’s why I have a hard time with it. In the church, they speak a lot about God’s divine favour. They mention how God will make moves that seem unfair to others but favourable to those who benefit. Is that really true? All of the stories I’ve read showed the work each person did prior to their rewards. Have we confused favour with grace? Have we forgotten the free will of mankind to take what isn’t theirs, then label it as favour? Growing up in a religious environment, the main character traits exemplified around me were selflessness and perseverance towards the church first family second, and themselves last. For a while it was rare for me to see anyone willingly take time off to focus on their studies, their children, their physical health, career growth, or to take vacations. Church retreats were the vacation. Family visits ovetseas and locally to help someone else were the vacations.  It was maddening to witness. The confusion and frustration I felt because they were still unhappy and unfulfilled. No one took love your neighbour as yourself seriously enough. How could you be consistently content and joyful if you never took time to relax, pour into yourself, and exercise healthy boundaries? Hard work only reaped success for certain people. I could not understand it. My primary school motto was “hard work, the key to excellence.” There was hard work all around me, but where was the ...

#MCM or #WCW, or were you the type to post both? Man crush Mondays and Woman Crush Wednesdays, Rihanna’s ANTI is a severely underated hit, Beyoncé dropped a new album- Lemonade which spoke to my soul, pop music was delicious, and I was an avid observer of it all. #BAE was everywhere, and before anyone else or anything else, a lot of tea dropped for #oomf’s all over. I giggled. I barely posted, but if one of my faves were to see me today, I’d be so giddy! I squealed as the light from my laptop screen grew brighter and dimmer with changing of night to day. Team no sleep was truly active, but I was in my bed watching. The parties, carnivals, fashion shows, beach fetes, and graduations all looked like fun, and my heart yearned to have my moments too. My prayers at the time probably sounded like, “Make me a Victoria Secret model God! Put me on the cover of VOGUE! Let me meet my big sis in my head Rihanna at least one time God!” Tumblr had me in a chokehold. YouTube was my holy grail. Hours and hours of get ready with me’s, what’s in my bag, and makeup videos flooded my feed. It’s what I liked! Funny how my interests truly have been consistent, because my likes on Instagram at the time are of the same people I followed on Tumblr and YouTube- Jackie Aina now Asamoah, Shameless Maya, Shannon Boodram, Blake Von D now Signed Blake, Zendaya, Kaci Fennell noe Shirley, Rihanna— how could I ever forget Rihanna? I was all up in her business, Annaixe, Jasmine Tookes, Lupita Nyong’o, Joan Small, Davina Bennett, Naomi Campbell, and fashion on top of fashion along with motivational quotes. I’ll never deny the allegations, I love motivational quotes. This was back when GoodQuotes was mainly on Tumblr, when black models matter made a move, and when I wanted to be in it. I yearned to add my voice to it all. 2016 me had a lot of dreams, but I was numb. Whatever fire and drive I had was numbed, so I wrote a lot, I consumed a lot, but I barely made anything. The creativity was there, but I hid it. What were you listening to? Current song selections were posted for others to see or give a listen online. When Beyoncé dropped Lemonade, I was going through the worst breakup I’ve ever experienced, and I’ll never experience another like that (amen, asé, shalom, knock on wood). LEMONADE!!!! The loose honey-blonde tresses, the flowy yellow dress, and that baseball bat crashing through the windshield were chef’s kiss. My emotions were happy. Burn him aliiive Beyoncé! Break his things like he broke your heart! I wanted to do the same, but I cannot handle those consequences. She made me Hold Up and realize that they really don’t love me like I love me, so I decided. I was not sorry for blocking, deleting, or ignoring any of the foolishness that came my way. Who? Did what? I don’t know that man. I don’t know that lady. No, “I ain’t sorry.” If this were a 2016 post, I’d put all the extra details in the hashtags because, baby, the world needed access to this news fast! I don’t know how many books I read, but I probably watched Twilight, Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, and a lot of romance films. Everybody wanted Lemonade braids and when I tell you, I rinsed and repeated Sorry until it was etched into my neurons and changed the chemistry in my body to stand up for myself. I was working odd jobs, studying, writing, and actively looking for ways to improve and get better. I got lemons, but it seemed the sugar for my lemonade wasn’t coming any time soon. 2016 me felt like 2025 me, but different. Now it is the year 2026. I’ve decided on what I will and won’t do. That’s it. No discussions. No debates. This is my selfish year. 2016 needed 2025 me. I walked away from rubbish, stopped putting others’ opinions above mine, and said, “Watch me work.” The challenges felt very similar, but my approach was different. Better. Therapy, pilates, and walks outside. I jumped on opportunities and grabbed as many possibilities as I could. I stopped saying I wish and started doing what I could. There were a lot of misses, but the lessons a...

Sometimes, it is hard to speak about things like this because it always seems as if people are waiting for drama when women are involved. It’s as if they always want to prove women are incapable of working together and thus can’t truly lead or complete anything as well as we believe men can. I dislike it. However, there is a conversation that is needed, and I refuse to hold it in just to appease people I don’t like or care for. This is personal commentary on how patriarchal rules and governing are the main culprits in the lack of unity in women dominated competitions like pageantry. Hi lovelies! In 2025, at the 74th staging of the Miss Universe pageant, I was rooting for everybody black, but especially Miss Côte D’Ivoire, Miss Guadeloupe, and Miss Haiti. It was a complete slap in the face to fans and competitors who have devoted themselves to this community when Miss Mexico was crowned after a questionable judging process. Controversy and competitions! They seem to go hand in hand, but this was just comical. If you’re going to plant a winner, at least make it believable. From a competitive standpoint, based on the known rules of judging to choose a winner, I’m sorry Miss Mexico, but that performance was not the winning one. To be honest, it wasn’t even the top 15 for the night. However, what’s done is done, and I wouldn’t want my girls to deal with a supposedly financially challenged organization during their reign. The question we’re all asking is, where is the organization heading? What is the vision? As we’ve seen for the past 3 or so years, without vision, the people truly perish, but for the love of women and pageantry, I need us to fight back and clean up the space! Pageantry, patriarchy, do they even overlap? From social cues and general commentary, it was believed that pageantry was only for women who looked a certain way and came from a certain background; fair complexion, straight hair, upper middle/ upper class upbringing, and on the international stage it was the Latinas, Filipinas and Europeans. Fortunately, there was a period where more diverse winners were chosen compared to the earlier years of the 74 year old organization. What changed from the Catriona Gray’s, Zozibini’s, R’bboney Gabriel’s, and Sheynnis Palacios’tp what we’re seeing now? I’d say it is a lack of women centered leadership. How does the relationship between the mindsets of the women and men who own pageant franchises position the relationships and perception of women who compete? How does the management reflect each chosen titleholder? The management of the organization, the context women meet, train, and compete in, as well as the type of people that enter these spaces and how they are allowed/encouraged to operate/behave? Since the directors are male or male-centered women then the ideology of the ideal woman is influenced by them, no? “Margarethe Von Trotta developed an entirely different politics in relation to women, showing their struggle to survive in a male order which seeks to constrain them and which has locked them into destructive and competitive bonding.” Women and Film page 9. Don’t I know it. I’ve always looked beyond that because, unfortunately, a man has rarely had my back in ways that I’ve needed. Male centered women haven’t either. They love the chaos and refuse to choose another way, because then they’d have to admit that for a very long time they were wrong and afraid of change. Miss Fourth Ward! When they called Olivia Yace as fourth runner-up I felt the same rage from Yendi Phillips’ year and Kaci Fennell’s year, I felt the same rage from Grace-Maria Porter for Miss Grand, and do not get me started on how they play in our faces with the black queens each year across the board. I am so proud of Olivia for walking away. That is what an empowered woman, person, does. She had the power to walk away, and she used it. She had her family and her supporters fully in agreement with her decision. Who would want to reign alongside someone who clearly is not the better choice for the top spot? That is not a read...

I drafted a message on June 4th for a WhatsApp group with contestants from the first national pageant I entered. It was a few days after my most recent pageant entry, and I kept them updated on what was happening. We lost a member in September 2025. Everything she was going through, I was going through it at the same time. None of us knew. We were all in the group, but none of us said anything there. Isn’t that scary? You could be drowning with a lifeline right beside you, but you can only know if you say something or turn in that direction. I didn’t maintain a connection with the group because I thought that my words wouldn’t matter. I thought that we had been so hurt and separated by our experiences in that pageant that we didn’t want to check in or keep up with each other at all. The trauma was too much. The remorse of realizing you survived or are still pushing through something that took someone else’s life or livelihood can be intense. Overwhelmed by a need to do something with what I currently have I decided to start sharing more. Granted, financially I’d love to be able to do more than just speak. Depression needs more than just words. An elder would say to me, how can you bring the word or the good news or talk therapy to someone who is hungry, tired, unwashed, or in need? If all you can do is talk to them, when will you help them? How can talking and words alone help anyone in need? Give them food, allow them to rest, bathe them, or meet their need. Talking won’t do those people any good, because they need to see the good news, good word, and results of therapy in action. That is the reason many do not believe or listen to Christians. That is why many reject talk therapy. No, this isn’t a ploy to convert anyone. It’s just my corner of the internet to share about my life, my real life. I get it. That is me. I cannot believe words on their own anymore. I need action, proof, something tangible to resolve the needs I have. Yes, words worked in increments, but I couldn’t grasp their value over physical help, so I kept quiet. I didn’t speak in the group. I wrote on my blog. I posted on my Instagram story. I used up to the word limit on Instagram captions. I tweeted. Most of all, I journalled. I didn’t want to be treated poorly because of what I shared. I felt distant and disappointed because I really hoped I’d find sisterhood that I didn’t have to chase or become small to keep. Even though I was struggling with the same things, I did not think we were close enough for me to bridge that gap and start the conversation. I regret it. This is the back story, or at least a part of it, that explains why I thought my words would not be enough. Sure, others’ words and tips have helped me and continue to do so, but it was the physical, financial, and social support that helped propel me forward at every step of the way. With that in mind, I didn’t say anything to the group. Where would the money come from? Who would even believe me? Would they treat me well or ridicule me? Who would invest in my ideas? Doubts. Questions. Isolated. Alone. No one is an island, but gosh, it’s so much easier and quieter being alone. It is also very dangerous. I made a mistake, so I’m correcting it. Since September 2025, I’ve been pushing to evolve beyond the silence. This is what my most recent share in the group. It felt like it belonged here too. People, people, people! We’re back to regularly scheduled good mental health and mindset programming. 💚🙌🏽✨ Honestly, since we’re all influenced by something or someone, we might as well be influenced fi di good tings dem, right? As the Dolls (and Kens if any of them see this) we are, sometimes it is easy to miss our growth. At times, we are too close to the process that we overlook the progress. It is okay to look back to see how far you’ve come. That can help us appreciate our current state of mind and being. I know our year was tumultuous. I wish I had a magic wand to make everything better, but all things work together for our good. I always hope that we learn what we need to in th...

Romance is in the Air!

Soca music has always been around me. Even though my parents didn’t want it anywhere near my little ears, the radios, school events, and neighbours gave me a secret gateway in. It felt like watching a show past my bedtime. A forbidden thing that I stumbled upon that piqued my curiosity and called to my ancestral connection within. I needed to know more, and I didn’t mind gaining some of my parents’ ire to get there. DVRA’S SOCA TO CARNIVAL JOURNEY My first formal introduction to soca came through dance. I danced with a Bajan and Jamaican flag to Drstra Garcia ft. Machel Montano’s song “It’s Carnival,” before I knew I could travel to that island. It’s still on my list to go there, along with my other sister Caribbean islands. Many Machel Montano songs found their way to my feet before I could stop them from moving to the beat. Too bad for my church background, the soca bug bit me early. Soca was in my veins and in my blood. Then high school introduced me to another level of carnival, Sunday Road March. It seemed like only a certain caliber of people were allowed to jump, and my high school was filled with them. I was intrigued. My art class added to that as I still have an artist statement about the history of carnival in my artist journal from 2010. The hair, the makeup, the boots, the costumes. A part of me wanted to be in it. I’d stay up all night waiting for the photos to be uploaded on FaceBook, and they didn’t disappoint. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I always wanted to know why people said, “Carnival is woman.” CARNIVAL, A MINI CULTURAL AND HISTORICAL INSIGHT There is an entire culture and language in the carnival space that I’m still learning as I go along. Bands or bandhouses are basically the design house like in the fashion world. Sections would be the different looks offered under the bandhouse, like ready to wear versus couture and avant garde. Jump Mas or play a mas is the term used for dancing a.k.a. jumping, or saying you’ll attend. People tend to do a dance walk on the road to keep in time with the music and the trucks. The entire thing began as a form of liberation for enslaved Africans in the Caribbean to celebrate themselves and their freedom. Some researchers say it began in Trinidad, but others say Brazil and Spain erred the originators from their Catholic Masqurade festivities after fasting during Easter. Carnival, as we know it today, began in Trinidad and Tobago. Most of the prominent designers, soca musicians, and DJs are from Trinidad. In Barbados, it is called Crop Over, and in Antigua it is called Spice Mas. It happens at the end of Spring or the end of Easter here in Jamaica. Other countries with Caribbean disapora like Canada and the United Kingdom have created their own versions, but unfortunately, the cultural relevance was lost in translation, with many assuming it is a sexual free for all event. It is not. There are rules and cultural importance. Please learn and respect them. There are several parties leading up to the penultimate day and a few cooling down events afterwards. I’ve yet to attend them all, so I’m challenging myself to give it a try this year. Let me immerse myself in the full experience to really give a more in-depth review of the festivities. There are foods, outfits, drinks, and many songs to learn and love. There are paint, water, holi powder, and foam parties to choose from. The aim? Fun, frolicking, and freedom. FASHION Monday wear. I don’t understand this aspect as yet, but Caribbean Lookbook on Instagram and TikTok shares some really cool insight on what it is and some pieces to admire as well. What I do know is that it’s an entire production to get your look ready for de road. Last year, I created a collage for my hair, makeup, and shoes inspirations, yes my shoes too, for my 2025 Azula costume by GenXS Jamaica. To help with that, there is a service called GlamHub where ladies can get their hair styled, makeup done, costumes on, and photos taken all in one location. For the men? Never forgotten. They can ge...

Trigger warning! This post mentions topics that may be triggering to others. If you are going through a hard mental health period, please wait until you are in a safe space to read this. Over the past 10 years I’ve noticed that in almost every news article comment section about someone who allegedly ended their life are three types of opinions: 1- no one cares about mental health until it is too late, 2- where are or were the friends, family, or support system of the deceased, and 3-reach out to your strong friends. Months ago, a shopkeeper, 52-year-old man’s decomposing body was found hanging by a sheet in a room. A few days ago, a teenage boy, hung himself in the bathroom of his family home after a beating from his mother. He was only 13 years old. Earlier in July, another teenage boy was suspected of ending his life and is no longer here with us after hearing that he will have to repeat grade 9 in school. Keshane Stewart was just 15 years old with a lifetime of opportunities to try again before him. Another teenage boy, 16 year old Jhamar Surgeon, ended his life after being on the receiving end of bullying from his peers. People asked the same questions above and the main one that I know all too well, did anyone notice before it got to this point? Hi lovelies. This topic is very close to me. I find it to be too serious for an exclamatory greeting this time, because I hope you will read my words and let them stir you into reflection then action. Before I begin, let me share a bit of my background so that you can understand the perspective I bring to this conversation. In my journey with suicidal ideation, I have worked with a counseling firm that specializes in suicide prevention, received therapy, and engaged in readings on the topic. Aside from the comments above, I’ve heard from those who disagree with suicide, those who believe it is a sin, and those who think it is foolish and selfish. Regardless, it is a problem that we need to know more information about. What I learned at the counseling firm is that more boys and men die from suicide than girls and women, even though the latter group attempts suicide more often than men do. It is not a competition. It is a call for intentional care and compassion. Through observation on the internet during the 2010s paired with the firm’s knowledge, suicides rarely come with warning signs and tend to happen in threes. Why? Some speculate that it triggers those who are in a similar position to attempt again. When they see the outrage and insensitive comments from strangers and sometimes family members, they feel hopeless. It is a crucial time to show that you are capable of hearing and helping when news of a suicide spreads. The next person who is struggling could be in your home with a smile on their face every day. If they are rarely any warning signs, and if it is still under-researched, what can regular citizens like us do to help those in our communities or even to help ourselves? Four Types of Suicide In my own journey, I’ve found that information has helped me to understand my brain’s response to external stimuli and why suicide ideation exists. It helped me to have more compassion for myself and release the shame that I was taught in church, religious spaces, family, and even in the general public. I’ve found that learning more about hard, challenging topics increases my compassion and understanding for a wide cross section of people and especially myself. Recently, I saw a post on Twitter (X) about the four categories of suicide. Based on the Father of Sociology Emile Durkheim‘s categorization of the topic, he stated that there are 4 types of suicides: egoistic, altruistic, anomic, and fatalistic. He said these are determined by the person’s social integration, how well have they been taught social skills to help them see themselves and others well, and moral regulation, which I understand as how their moral view of the world impacts their psyche. i. EGOISTIC- is a profound response executed by people who feel totally detached from s...

That get-to-know-me video is avoiding me. That’s what I’m telling myself as I avoid it. It will happen when it happens! At this point, I won’t chase it. Hi lovelies! Nah, it isn’t Friday. Yes, I did some new and old things that felt fearful last week. Let’s go! Last week was Mental Health Awareness Week in Jamaica. I went back to volunteer at Bellevue Hospital’s Occupational Therapy Unit and had a lovely visitor. One of the main feedback visitors to the class usually give is how calm and soothing it is. You get your beads, sit with the residents and staff, and make your bracelet. I also went to the Wellness Day event on Friday. That day was the perfect example of why I started this challenge for myself. I got up at 6 a.m. The plan was to get to the event at 10/10:30 a.m. however I got there around 12:30 instead. Why? What happened? Anxiety. Overthinking. I use public transportation to get around (for now) and it is an anxiety inducing experience for me. Some days are heavier than some, and Friday was one of those days. When the weather forecasted heavy rainfall for Friday afternoon, I panicked. If I had to take the bus in the rain, I would not have a great time at all. You see, Downtown Kingston floods whenever it rains and the traffic is miserable. If you’ve ever been stuck on a bus with loud music, incessant chatter and freezing AC then you probably understand the sensory overload that can happen. Apparently, this intense feeling of being trapped, unsafe in public spaces is called agoraphobia. I’ve experienced this for most of my life and didn’t know it was a thing until last week Thursday. I made it, but it was a challenge to get there. I made it to Chess Club! There are many things I have always wanted to do but stopped myself out of fear. In high school there was a Chess Club when I was in grade 7. I really wanted to join, because it sounded like fun and I heard it was good for brain development and focus. Yes, that was the reason I wanted to join. I wanted to excel at my studies, and I wanted hobbies that supported that. I made that happen for the first time last week and I’m proud to say that I knew a few of the moves and pieces before we started, because I used to play on my mother’s desktop computer. I tried Spanish Club when I just started Uni, but they were a bit clique-ish. I didn’t try anything else after that, until now. It is good to give yourself as many chances as you need to achieve your dreams. I just started one of mine 18 years later. Wow. 18 years. That’s a grown child. I went for a walk. I haven’t done that in a while, but I didn’t like how I was feeling or thinking, so I changed that with a walk. I made a promise to myself to leave the house every three days. It is very easy to stay in. The weather is cooler, it rained a few times, and I genuinely dislike the chaos of Jamaican traffic. However, like a beautiful rose I need to watered, given fresh air, and sunlight to thrive (human-synthesize). There is a walking trail called Walker’s Hill close to my community, but I truly don’t feel like walking that far. However, the walk helped to clear my head so I may need to overcome that feeling and add that to my routine. I created and posted a few more videos. I know I want to do the get-to-know-me video in a specific way, but I wonder why I am holding back. Am I afraid of myself and what my true potential could look like? Upon further thought, I have spent less time enjoying my hobbies, interests, and curiosities for too long. Time to change that. There were some fails. I was invited to a few events, but I could not go. That’s the part about my current state that is upsetting for me. Sure, I’d love to socialize more, but I really can’t do that at night or every week. It would have to be something in the day so I can get home at a reasonable hour without breaking my budget. Sometimes it can be hard to let others know that your budget is not the same as it used to be, but it is better than living beyond your means. Real friends wouldn’t let you put you...

Guess who created a video and posted it with a voiceover? This gal! Again, you can’t see me, but I’m doing a shoulder shimmy. Hi lovelies! Yes, I am very aware, today is not Friday. The last few weeks were a whirlwind. However, I kept my promise and posted another video of myself. Based on what happened last week, it would have been inappropriate to post something like that. Still, delay is not denial. That get-to-know-me video is coming for sure. I am confident about that. In retrospect, I showed my face online more than I usually do last week. I spoke too. Sure, I stuttered and stalled here and there, but I spoke and shared my views and some knowledge online. Sadly, I had to be a little strict with some people, but that is okay. We all need correction every now and then. WHAT DID DVRA FEEL THE FEAR IN AND DO? A few weeks ago, I realized that there were only a few days in September for Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. There is a blog post about this in my drafts. It has been there for a while. The news from the last few weeks were a catalyst for me to continue researching it and post. Why? It matters. A lot of us truly do not understand the complexities of living with mental health challenges. We don’t understand how people decide to complete a suicide or why they even have those thoughts. What I had hoped was that people wouldn’t allow a lack of understanding to get in the way of offering empathy. It’s like asking someone to prove how much they are suffering before you offer them any kindness. The week that I got the news of her passing, I attended all of my classes. Yes, I woke up feeling anxious every day, and felt like I didn’t have enough resources, but I got up and pushed through it. If you have been here for a while then you may recall my post about academic fears and how much anxiety builds in my body when I have to deal with public transportation and studying for grades instead of knowledge. While we processed the news, I reached out to former pageant sisters. It is devastating to experience grief like that alone. That turned into a Girls Night Out and changed into a weekend adventure. I was taken, friend-napped, to Raw Bar in the rain and then Ribbiz until 3:30 a.m. We sang and danced, which I rarely do outside anymore, because I try my best to avoid places with smoking and inebriated men. I don’t have my pepper spray anymore, so I truly do not feel safe around men. I was ready to go to a 5K at 5:45 a.m. too, but that didn’t happen. In my mind it would be a great way to wrap up the weekend. LESSONS For years I have tried to study during the day. However, everyone has their peak hours of concentration. Mine happen to be late nights and early mornings. Now I am learning to embrace that for better results. I noticed a few ways how my ability to see others’ perspectives can lead to self-sabotage and people pleasing. It all stemmed from being raised more through neglect instead of nurture. That is a part of the reason I started this challenge for myself, so I can reroute my brain and habits in nurturing ways instead of harmful neglect. Now, I have a few ideas to continue showing up for others and still meet my goals. Though I am interested in dipping my toe in the pool, I am not ready to date. There is still some decentering of men I need to do in my life. The things I’ve talked about are truly working in my favour this SAD season. Even when the low moments happen, they are shorter than before. I reach out for help quicker and allow myself to feel my true emotions instead of gaslighting myself to get to solution mode. Side note: that doesn’t work. When I acknowledge my true emotions, it is easier to choose an adequate response, instead of spiraling in lies. I am not completely over what happened to me in the pageant, and I have never publicly shared the down sides of my experience. A part of me wonders if it matters now, since it has been a few years. Another part of me knows I am not the “perfect victim” so there are flaws that can be used against me if I do speak abou...

Hi, hi, hi lovelies! Can you believe another week is almost over? Okay, okay, I confess. I did not post a ‘get to know me’ video as promised in the last post in this series. However, I posted a style video today! I will do the video this week for sure as the aim is to get comfortable speaking in front of the camera and to have fun with my creative looks. This outfit of the day video is a step in that direction. Usually, I would only post pictures of my outfits, blog about it, or post nothing at all. This is growth. You can’t see me, but I’m doing a celebratory dance for my progress. I love fashion. I really love a good outfit. One of the quickest ways to recenter myself or boost my mood is a good outfit. Sadly, it is usually one of the first things I let go of whenever I’m in a rough mental health period or extremely busy. Thankfully, I created my version of a Caribbean capsule wardrobe to make it easier for me to get dressed during those times. Dress better, feel better is very true for me. When I love my outfit, I love life even more. Insults and inconveniences roll off my back like water. In fact, I’d go as far to say my composure increases and it repels nonsense of all forms. I love that. My style is a form of self-expression that helps me to present my best self to the world. A lot of fashionistas agree with this sentiment. However, there is some fear there for me these days. Dressing well means more people will look at me and sadly, some men do not respect boundaries or basic common courtesies when they’re around beautiful women. The last time I put on a nice outfit and had to take public transportation, the conductors almost fought to get me on their bus. To be fair, it was only one of them. Another man had to come up to us and make him move from in front of me. Yikes! I felt uncomfortable and unsafe. Me nuh like dem type a excitement deh m’luv. (Translation: I do not like that type of attention (excitement) my dear). In the fashion world, my outfit was very simple, but the fear of something like that happening to me again definitely made me reconsider my outfits since then. However, I still need to express myself through style. The solution? Create my looks and post them online. The collage for the shoot. Photographer, Albert’s Photography, found the perfect location to execute this idea. The inspiration photo from Pinterest. Palisadoes Beach, Jamaica. Now, I felt the fear and posted today’s style video anyway. I had to redo it, but thankfully it didn’t take long. The power went 3 times while this was happening, but I pushed through. At times, there just isn’t enough time to dedicate to creating a look, recording it, edits, and then posting it. The beauty of styling is that it is a creative process. From ideation, sketches, collages, to experimentation, and execution, the entire process soothes that creative itch for me. Allow me to explain. CREATE, STYLE, CREATE, STYLE In the past three years I’ve had the opportunity to work with some cool makeup artists, designers, and photographers. For a few I’ve been the creative director, stylist, makeup artist, and model. How do I curate those looks? Brainstorm This is the ideation process. In the beginning, I have an idea. Then I acted on it. Sometimes the ideas will be sparked by something I saw on Pinterest, the local newspaper, a magazine, life, Instagram, Twitter (I will never call it X), or Tumblr. At times I have a need to express myself or make photos for a designer who sent me pieces. At times, I just want to try a cool concept someone else did. Conceptualize Ooooh! Big word (lol). This is where the idea begins to take form. I like to create mood boards and then a style board or collage. The day Pinterest decided to add a collage option to the app, I have been in heaven! Sure, I still love adding pins to my boards, but to have a collage with everything in one place is a visual learner’s dream. It also helps me to see if the different pieces create a cohesive look. Before Pinterest collages, I used Canva.com, Polyv...

Hi lovelies!                The first month of 2025 blessed me with some good first experiences. I went the New Wave Block Party, wore my Nachami designs firs the first time this year, did a photoshoot with a cool photographer, and walked in my first fashion show. I am a Jamaican, but for a long time, I felt like a foreigner in my own country. The aspects of our culture that I gravitated towards were seen as taboo and uncouth to my guardians. They had a lot of support in this belief, so it was hard to express the beauty I saw. As a child, I was not able to choose differently, but I found ways. I joined a dance troupe, went to school parties, snuck out with former friends, who in hindsight were not friends, to be involved in the culture that drummed rhythms my body responded to. I still felt like I wasn’t Jamaican enough. Yet I yearned to know my island and to embrace her as she is. I figured I would allow myself to explore our culture on my own. The things I couldn’t do back then, as long as I am able to I would. How can I be a Jamaican and never explored my beautiful island? Yes, I’ve been fortunate to experience summers in the country with my grandparents with hogs in pens and goats bleating before the Christmas slaughter. I’ve been to farms, trekking through overgrown bushes as my father swung his cutlass that was older than I am to a whistle, slicing through thorny trees as the sweet scent of mangoes hung in the cool air. As a young girl, I complained. My bribe was a promise of a cool dip in the river that ran through the land. Every trip, it was either dry or we didn’t have enough time to take a proper dip in it before we had to go. I yearned to hike the majestic Blue Mountains, swim in the warm waters on the north coast, vacation in cool Portland and brag about my gorgeous island. I grew tired of my elders telling of a Jamaica before my time, brimming with national pride. I wanted that for myself. My bandana dress, Jamaican coloured jerseys, beach photos, Reggae concerts, and drumming around a beach fire. Cliché, maybe, but to me those are parts of the Jamaican culture that call to me in my sleep. I’ve been exploring who I am within the Jamaican culture. New Wave Block Party A mix of Jamaica then and now, a diverse mix of musical options. That is why I gravitated towards this party. I went alone. This is a solo journey; I need to experience these things without external influences. I need to know if I truly like these things or not. The dress code was sporty chic and in the spirit of my Jamaican ancestors, mi tun mi han’ n mek fashion. There was an old BLESSED graphic print t-shirt, handmade pearl necklace and gold chain necklace, denim jeans that were gifted to me by a friend and a windbreaker I’ve had since grade 6. Photos by Antoine @al_photography_ja The look was inspired by Rihanna’s pop princess street style era and sustainability. Tun mi han n mek fashion worked, because Antoine from The Gleaner took my photo. I enjoyed myself. Don’t ask me the name of the DJs, but the music was good. I loved the genre mixes and the fact that for the most of the DJs played new sets. Promo flyer for New Wave Block Party 2025. Very few songs were repeated. That was refreshing. People danced like no one was watching, and the creators were out in numbers! That’s what I’d love to experience more of moving forward. Joy, fun, dancing, good music, and more opportunities to embrace my Jamaican culture. What did you do this month? Next time, I’ll tell you more about the fashion and photoshoot. Until then, stay hydrated. Love, Dvra.

Hi there! Happy new week lovelies. It is self-care Sunday here on Love Dvra. We are black history, but do we love where we are now? Do we love who we are now? When you look in the mirror do you admire what and who you see? Is your body a loved, protected home or a tired, overly-criticized vessel that gets you through the day? It is a conversation I’ve had with myself several times. Here is what I uncovered. As a young girl and teenager, my natural hair was heavily criticized and rarely complimented. It was “too nappy, too dry, too frizzy, too short, too kinky, or too hard to manage”. In my teen years, I desperately wanted a perm to stop those criticisms and the weight of negative emotions that came after hearing them. In my logical mind, a perm would make it easier to try new hairstyles. My go-to style was three puffs- two in the front and one in the back. I did not know how to take care of my hair. Sometimes dealing with it made me feel powerless. It was a challenge to feel confident in my appearance. There were very few hairdressers who knew how to style my hair. Most of their methods included heat, rough detangling and gel, which led to breakage. Yes, I hated my hair. Even now, I find myself reacting to it in ways others did in the past. It is so ingrained in my psyche that even when I see the beauty of my hair now, sometimes it feels like it’s not enough or should be different to be better. Can we call it hair trauma? Now I wear my hair natural mainly because it is more affordable and I know how to take care of it as is. However, there is still so much I would like to learn to treat it better. If I were to change my hair, I’m at a point where it would be from a place of necessity or curiosity instead of a need to fit in or for others to accept me. This inner dialogue about my body and hair made me question a lot of what I considered to be beautiful. What is beauty to me and how do I want to express that? I am still creating that, but so far I know I want to be healthy. I know I want to remain authentic. Koroba braids, bantu knots, afros, locs, weaves, perms, waves, pin curls- I want to try them all! The versatility black women have created for their hair and the stories that can be told from our style positively intrigues me. Beauty is a holistic experience. It is physical, creative and also spiritual, mental, and emotional to me. A black woman who loves her natural hair and complexion is less likely to perform her blackness and feminity in any space she enters. She simply exists and radiates as is. I can’t deny that the perception of blackness and beauty creates tension at times. We are so accustomed to being treated as spectacles when we show up as ourselves that some of us put up a wall. Like myself, it can be weary to constantly ignore people’s comments on the natural state of your hair, especially around people who we hoped would do better. These days I’ve had to guard myself against comments from a few persons in my life. They have natural hair, but the only way they can accept it is if it is in braids, cornrows or a bun. At times I’d like to ask them if my shrinkage is too black for them. We learned to diminish our natural appearance to appease those in charge of corporate spaces, schools, financial institutions and governance so we could gain access to the important support they offered. Mind you, the state of my hair is merely for my convenience. I will straighten it as long as it is safe and convenient to do so. However, it is so funny how it is perceived as defiance of authority or the status quo in its natural state. Why does the status quo think tightly coiled African hair is a rebellion? If we all were to allow these limitations to stop us, where would we be as a people? Our ancestors fought for freedom, for access to basic needs and for a better tomorrow. Now, we fight for unbiased access to spaces we qualify for, we fight for rest and softness, we fight to be able to express the full range of our emotions without being labelled as threats, and we fight for generational...

Hi lovelies! May is Mental Health Awareness Month, Child’s Month and Mother’s Day is in this month too. In Jamaica, we recognize October as Mental Health Awareness Month since it has Mental Health Day and Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month is afterwards in November, so it makes sense to do things that way. In addition to that, it is a good idea to give people relevant resources and coping skills before S.A.D season really takes a toll on their emotional and mental well-being during the autumn/winter months. This May I am reflecting on my mental health journey. I am grateful that it is better, but it took a toll on my holistic development. I wish I had listened to my body more. It knows. I could’ve avoided a lot of challenges if I had known how to listen to my body and trust myself at an earlier age. I now know, that my mental health is linked with my physical health. Once I move my body through dance, pilates, yoga, walking, running, weight lifting or cardio in the gym, it improves my mental strength and clarity. What I eat and how I eat matters. When my body aches, stiffens or lags, I listen to it. None of us need to wait until things reveal themselves in detrimental ways before we decide to make better choices to sculpt our minds, bodies and lifestyles. Our lives are glued to screens now more than ever before. We are so distracted, desensitized and unfortunately insensitive to our own needs that some of us are blinded from the solutions. In turn, it makes us insensitive and critical of those around us, especially when they need more support, a break, compassion, patience or a listening ear or show up differently than we prefer. The pandemic reminded me how much we need to change things for the better and that I can start with me. I aspire to be more intentional about how I care for my body, emotions and health versus what others dislike about me. Even though S.A.D season was managed a little better in 2023, I mentally gave up when my body gave out last year and earlier in 2024. I tried new things to alleviate the dreariness from S.A.D season, like a USculpt session at Body by TLS in the Life Store. The layout of the space feels calming and healthy. There is something about white walls, greenery, light wood and natural light in a room- the combination makes everything calm. When you enter a courteous employee will hand you a thin black shirt to wear and instruct you to lay on the bed. At first, the machine looked like an iron to me. It was strapped onto my abdomen before the assistant turned it on. Guys, I didn’t know what to expect, but it felt so weird I started laughing! The USculpt machine uses electromagnetic waves to stimulate muscles, in this case, it was on my abdominal muscles, so they contract like an ab workout. I work out sporadically, so I’ve not seen any muscle definition in that area. As a model, pageant girl and now carnival babe, muscle definition adds some finesse to the final look. I took the opportunity to try this service because I’ve always wanted defined and strong core muscles. The USculpt service from Body by TLS is a good option for sedentary patients, models, bodybuilders, new moms or anyone with abs separation, and curious folks like myself lol. Natalie is such a light. Her energy is invigorating. While you’re there, check out the supplements and healthy snacks available. I really need to visit soon to grab a few items to try. The benefits include muscle definition for models, bodybuilders, fitness enthusiasts, and carnival revellers who want to show off their abs on the road. It is a good option to repair separated abdominal muscles (abs separation) that can happen to postpartum moms, wheelchair patients, elders or anyone who has weak muscles. The machine will help exercise lax muscles for those with arthritis, fibromyalgia or paralysis. We see certain technologies or creations and immediately think, “Why would anyone need that?” We forget the vulnerable people who deserve access to basic things some of us may overlook. That was the revelation from my firs...