Rants & Reason

I am an emotional person, by that I mean that I am the person who in the context of romantic love will make sure a partner knows I love them by showing it often, I am the person who when he thinks about that love is likely to well up. I am the person who sees the images  of famine in Somalia and gets upset. I am the person for whom national debate about the humanity of a marginalized group hurts me at my core.

Sometimes  my  emotions are written off as soft or sappy or empathy gone beyond its reasonable bounds. However, I  happen to think that that is too limited a view. That reading of my emotions negates the reality that being open and vulnerable, and sharing in that way takes work.

The nature of that work is cerebral and it can even be obsessive. I have a deep attachment to words both spoken, and written so that in situations of deep emotion I think very carefully about the words I use to communicate my angst, anger, and or sadness.

My emotionality can be heavy, sharing can be hard. Heavy and hard because there is no guarantee that my audience whether family member or the public  will understand and or reciprocate.

As heavy as it can be, I think this work is necessary, when I share my feelings with someone I love  I do so because it is not only a necessity for me, it is necessary for them. When I write an impassioned article, Facebook post or share my feelings I think those words and moreover that sentiment  is needed in world at the time.

For most teenagers, when their 16th birthday rolls around its time to get the ball rolling on the process of acquiring a driver’s license. As a teenager driving is interpreted as a marker of freedom and independence. For me, things were a little different.

At sixteen as a person living with Cerebral Palsy a condition that affects my fine motor skills, driving could not have been farther from my mind. In many ways I had just started walking comfortably, and without pain, and so driving was hardly top of mind.

Added to that there was always this notion that I would learn to drive when my studies were finished since the time and the effort it takes for most people to learn to drive would most likely quadruple for me, and since Voice wrote that song for me, right here so I stop.

But I have been to take the permit test twice. The first time the licensing officer asked me to walk for him and in a need for some clarity, I asked him what he was accessing and which medical school he graduated from. The second time the worker were on a little strike because the office had not been cleaned for the week. Suffice it to say that my attempts such as they were have led to naught.

I have to admit it would be disingenuous to discount my own fear in this scenario. As someone with a disability that affects my fine motor skills there is no guarantee that the attempt to learn to drive will lead to success for me and the bottom line is that failure is scary. There is a part of me that prefers not to try to learn to drive than to try and fail, to recognize that I cannot do it.

As a result I am a 28 year old man who is carted around by those close to me, parents, family and friends, a legion of people for whose care and commitment throughout my life I am deeply grateful. Despite my gratitude however, and in spite of the commitment of these people to assist, the reality is more than a little disheartening that at such an old age I am still dependent on people; willing, helpful, people but dependent all the same.

As someone who grew up with extraordinary assistance I have developed an unhealthy obsession with independence, While I accept assistance graciously, I absolutely abhor asking for it or depending on anyone for anything- a symptom that does not always serve me well; ask my mother.

A consequence of this obsession with independence and an unwillingness to ask for assistance is that I generally limit my social life to that which I am obligated to do, and or that which I determine will require as little effort from others as possible.

It affects me so that often I decline invitations, not because I do not want to go but because if I stay at home that does not require the contribution of anyone else.

In the way of personal attributes I am also decidedly introverted. While I am human and so generally social, by my very nature I also enjoy my own company more than most, and sometimes being in the company of others is draining and tiresome regardless of how you may find them interesting or care for them deeply.

Listen I go out, in a couple weeks I will be everywhere there is to be, taking in the Crop Over festivities, but that’s kind of not what I am talking about here. You know that Sunday afternoon drive that you can take by yourself or that that meal at your favorite restaurant that you enjoy principally because you have the peace of your thoughts uninterrupted, that’s what I mean.

My unease about my lack of mobility and the idea that it has unwittingly transformed into acceptance in recent times confuses people somewhat because I am often perceived as a fighter, as the one who fights to change that which he does not like.

Make no bones about it- I have come to terms with my disability. But that of course does not negate the fact that navigating independence as an adult with a disability is difficult. Moreover, the difficulties can be depressing and can even lead you to isolate yourself from the things and people you love.

I cannot discuss the lack of independent mobility in the abstract, if I lived in New York like I once did, with a reliable transport system or France or Switzerland where I have visited where the public transport system is accessible and accommodating I would have less of an issue. My experience outside of Barbados has taught me that disability for me is more than just a diagnosis of cerebral palsy,  it is equally the way environments and services are built to exclude my presence or make it much more difficult to exist in public space.

An additional consequence is that I am hardly ever alone in public space, a reality that is strange for anyone at my age but more so for someone who is more than slightly introverted.

I have very little in my life to complain about, I been privileged and have benefited from love and support and resources that far outweigh what I deserve. However, that does not stop the misery of laying in bed knowing that you do not necessarily want to be there right then, and I do not want to be in anyone’s company either.

I am 27 and by this age I had planned to be deeply in love; deeply, solidly, romantically committed. Despite some solid efforts I am not and that reality often depresses me. The reason for my unease is because I’m an idealist. My romantic success is a fundamental part of how I define success altogether, add to that my extraordinary impatience and this becomes a maddening state of affairs.

I have been in love before,and truly enjoyed the experience. The experience gifted me with so many things,but most of all it made me tender and made me a little more adept at handling vulnerability.

Handling vulnerability could not be more valuable a skill than in this moment of romantic solitude. In this moment I have had to and must continue to ask myself really really really tough questions. Some of the toughest questions:

What makes me want love so badly?

How do I delink romantic love from my conception of success?

What do I do in this period of singledom?

Yes its obvious i’m the over achieving academic, I have given my self questions to answer in relation to my love life. I am clearly not affording myself the fantasy of serendipitous and whimsical encounters like we see in the media. On some days I suck at answering these questions or staying committed to the answers that I come up with. Most days I suck at the entire endeavour not finding a glimmer a hope that the most entrenched desires of my heart.

That said I think I’m about to become the male, 20 something year old Carrie Bradshaw as I answer my own questions and explore my own ideas about love. Perhaps this wil be more about me griping less about not having romantic prospects and more about me being perfectly okay with that fact.

Today the world lost one of its finest musicians and creatives. A man who took the music world by storm creating a genre all his own and making the music video a platform of artistry and a vehicle of popularity. We will also remember Prince for making waves with his gender expression serving as an inspiration and a reflection for generations. In the remembrances that have followed his death, I am struck by the myriad of causes he was passionate about and contributed to, while asking for no recognition.

While I cannot profess to be the biggest fan, I am impressed with his generosity and individuality. His death is a reminder to “tell someone you love them and mean it” and endeavour to live so that when we die even the undertaker is sorry.

May we all follow his example, and find just one way in which we can each shake the world.

Happy New Years guys!

Its a new year and its time to do some extraordinairy things and stop playing small. Something I have been guilty of myself. 

Since I was little I have wanted to be Anderson Cooper well (I'm not 12 so) Ed Bradley crossed legs, earring and all. All my life I have written and read everything and have been the authority on the day's news, politics and pop-culture. In keeping with those aspirations I acquired a degree in Mass Communications and subsequently a degree in Politics with the full intention of going on to be Journalist. But then life happened, a couple other opportunities opened up which allowed me to do several other amazing things all which I entirely enjoyed.

 However, all the while I was sitting on boards, planning and executing advocacy plans, traveling, speaking, attaining more degrees and just being awesome my media mogul dreams were present but dying. I got comfortable, complacent even. At the time I was doing important work and that became enough although it was not my dream, certainly not the whole dream. In the minor ways in which I was honoring my dreams I was becoming obsessed with balance. I was sure I was paying too much attention to things creative, things not immediately profitable. Throughout a relatively busy schedule, I lost the fight. The fight that it would have taken to be a creator,to get noticed. Resultantly I carried on as if I was fine, I really was not.

1.  Be a doer

One of the most interesting socio-cultural moments in Barbados each year  is the day  Common Entrance results are released. Euphoric celebrations for few, relief for the majority and sadness for too many.

Listen let's not dissect the pecking order although it's not helpful I feel like we have spent so much time doing that over the years and although it is a commentary on the potential dismantling of a system it has not led us anywhere. (Color me pessimistic)

What I'm most interested in is finding a solution for the 138 students  who scored less than 10% in math. Why are they even taking the test.  My only answer to that is that we are too wedded too idea of this exam and not to the development of our children. Someone who is scoring so poorly on these tests needs remedial help, remedial help I think the schools need to commit themselves to providing. I fundamentally believe that parents who have the resources and access to improve their children's performances do ( a reality that allows us some of the top achievers we celebrate)

All children should benefit from robust interactions between parents and teachers but especially children who are experiencing challenges of meeting the established markers. These interactions would give everyone an appreciation of what needs to be done so that the child reaches its full potential. Additionally, to the extent that  structural changes are required so that kids are not rushed through a system, made to fail, left to be branded and have their possibilities limited lets engage in them.