​It was around 2015/2016, I’m not sure, but two of my then friends and I decided we’re going to have dinner and hang out for the night. Just have a nice girl’s night out. However, one of them decided to invite her “birds” and his friends for when we were going to chill somewhere else. I mean that’s okay and all. Skip to us at the famous hangout spot, 3 Amigos, where we were just chilling and listening to the music, I realized that two of my friends were cuddled or talking up to two of the guys and the last friend was just watching me with a distasteful look. I squinted my eyes as a lot of question marks ran through my head. At the end of the night I realized that I was “the ugly friend.” 
 
Now, this post/essay isn’t something for sympathy or whatever. I know I can be cute when I want to be. However, listening to some conversations this week, it made me realize how powerful “Pretty Privilege” is and how I’ve never truly lived that privilege. 
 
 
I always tell people that all my life I’ve been that official third wheel. Folks would laugh or ask, why would you put yourself in those situations? Well, a lot of the time it wasn’t voluntary. It’s always a “let’s hang out” and then that person’s man/fling or whatever would just show up and I’m in the corner like... okay cool. Or it would be situations where there were a group of us, chilling and guys would approach us, well them. Am I glad now that they never really spoke to me? Definitely because the Lord himself knows that they were trash, however at that time, my little self-esteem was hurt, especially since nobody was “trying to bodda with me.”  
 
With situations like that always happening, I just morphed into the role of the ugly friend that’s the official third wheel,  and is the convincing factor to allow their parents to say yes for them to go somewhere to meet up with these dudes and maybe their friends who would ignore my existence. Being in that position, allowed me to notice things that my other friends wouldn’t have really notice. I understand mannerisms and language most males use and can sort of tell if they are behind genuine or not. The lack of experience with pretty privilege, as in always getting a yes or never friend zoned or being “worshiped” (which sounds super weird typing it), has honestly somewhat dampen my confidence when it comes to “shooting my shot.” Everyone usually says the worse thing they could say is no and moved on, which is true, but it still reminds me my high school years when I was just seen as a “Yeah, da gal.”  
 
 
Now I know it sounds like a sap story, but I promise, it’s not a sap story or any story I’m asking for any forms of empathy, I just wanted to talk about it as I’m surrounded by people who never experienced that type of emotions. Now as I grow and “glow up”, I really don’t care about it that much. I’m just trying to unlearn all the misconceptions that were drilled in my head over the last 6 years or so and maybe find some confidence in shooting my shot. Who knows, it might take another 6 years. 

​For the first two weeks of winter break I’ve been doing some soul searching and a lot of sleeping and I’ve realized a couple things. I am genuinely happier, even though I spent the holidays away from family, I can make a decent ham, my sorrel is bomb as hell, I have a gummy bears addiction and that I’m going through soca fete and live basketball withdrawals. Another important thing that I’ve realized that I have to be honest with myself about my past in order to properly love myself as a grow older (I’m turning 20 and I feel like I’m 80 is this a crisis?).
 
This post, I’m going to be honest with myself and with you, the reader, that I am still confused and somewhat annoyed about the body shaming that I went through in my adolescent life. Growing up in the Caribbean, no matter what your shape was, you would go through some scrutiny for being too fat or being too skinny. However, I can’t speak for the skinny folks because the last time I was “skinny” was in kindergarten, I think. I’m not sure when my growth spurt happened, but all a sudden I was one of the tallest girls in my class and I had to wear my uniform skirt right under my chest for it to button and not have a weird pudge hang over. This time is where all of insecurities started to develop. The children in school would state that you were fat and family would talk about how was putting on weight. I fully do not remember how I handled it, but I knew it led to years of confusion when it came to my body. 
 
 
In secondary school, again I felt fat. Like, super fat. I couldn’t wear certain things because I felt my thighs jiggled too much, my stomach popped out too much, my breast hung to much. It was a time that I did not accept my body at all and I wanted to find every activity or some type of diet to try and be slim. This was not good at all. My athletic ability was extremely limited to softball and running the bases honestly gave me some serious breathing issues, and I refused to start back dancing because I knew I would feel uncomfortable in the dance environment then. Dieting was a fail and it’s honestly really stupid as well. The next option was to go to the gym. So, in forth form I started the gym and there were results, however, my body was exhausted from the intense school work and extracurricular activities and my pressure dropped tremendously, making me extremely weak and sick. Also, my thighs were getting bigger and it frustrated me.
 
Now, as a college student, when old pictures from high school (lordt) pops up as Facebook memories, I watch them with major confusion. I am currently way bigger now but, yet I was “fat”. It made me think on what really is an acceptable weight for society and even for my family in general? Are we really condition that much in the region that a little stomach means that you are automictically fat and [inserts drasticness] is a life sentence to all “fat” diseases? 
 
The conversation on how we have to deal with fatphobia within our societies is something extremely complex and even political. It is a topic that I will discuss later, however I don’t think I’m ready yet to deal with that baggage. What can be done is to not greet people with their weight. I would really appreciate to not hear the “but you geh fat man” as soon as I touch down on Princess Juliana International Airport. Yes, I know I gained weight, I’ve been eating, which one should be happy I’m doing since there was a period where I would eat once a day or nothing at all. So, all of this weight is happy weight and I’m finally accepting my body the way it is, being nice and round like a dumpling. I might complain about struggling to fit in jeans or serious back pain because of the heaviness of my breast, but I have to accept that’s just how my body is designed, and I have to love it and care for it because it is mine. 

​As I sit here singing Turn Around Bright Eyes, by Total Eclipse of the Heart with my roommate, completely ignoring the fact that I have three major finals starting on 6thof December, I realized that I have to do a review on my first semester that is coming to a dramatic halt. As stated in the title, why did I go to college has been a recurring question since the end of September. The transition to not being in school for two years to assigned major papers and exams every two weeks and learning one to two math topics in 50 minutes was insane. Purely, truly, insane. I mean academically things weren’t hard, my brain was just stilling sleeping after June of 2016. 

However, the academics was not the brunt of this journey. What has me questioning why I went to college is the emptiness of my bank account, the high levels of stress of trying to sleep and the fact that I can’t just order some sate potato from Ana. I really want a plate of Sate potato from Ana, soaking in sate sauce. Someone, please.  Heads up, I’m continuing this blog post, a week later after crying over exams. Whew. 

​This semester review is going to focus more on how I am adapting to this new place, being thankful for the beautiful personal and professional relationships I’ve gained so far, and why supporting the Men’s Basketball team is a subscription to stress.  

​ The Transition: 
Earlier in the semester I wrote An Afro-Caribbean Girl in the Midwest and I talked about explaining where I’m from and where it is, over and over and over again and how tiring it can be. Well I am still explaining but the ignorance has finally surfaced. About a week or so ago, I was telling someone where I’m from (just stuck with the Caribbean) and then they asked me if it snowed there. I-I 

​I had to just pause for a moment and take a quick breath and just answer no. I know it’s probably not fully this person’s fault, but my heart sank. This education system needs help. Besides still being asked about if it snows, the transition period has gotten better. I’m comfortable in walking around the campus, going from point A to point B and comfortable with the roads and places around campus (when I leave to go grocery shopping of course). Wichita is slowly becoming home and I’m okay with that. 


​My Lovies: 
 
This city and school wouldn’t be morphing into home if it wasn’t for my ‘two friends.’  I am thankful for Elise and Rai for dealing with my extraness because Jah knows extra is my middle name. They’ve made this semester fun with us joking around, carrying me to go to the grocery store (lol) and just being awesome.  Big up one time to my basketball buddy Jayden for allowing me to rant, cuss and yell, especially at the men’s basketball team. Unfortunately, moving here has triggered my social anxiety, to a point where I would have mini mental breakdowns in public. It is honestly extremely scary. Thankfully there have been places where I’m somewhat comfortable and be able to relax my anxious thoughts and be myself.    I would thank the Community Service Board and the Black Student Union for an awesome semester. These groups are filled with a set of motivated and inspirational persons who wouldn’t fail to make you laugh here and there. I don’t know how this semester would’ve turned out if I didn’t have these people and/or organizations. So, thank you. 

​

​Basketball:
 
If you know me, you know I breathe, eat and sleep basketball. If I had coordination skills, I would honestly push myself to play the highest level of collegiate basketball. Unfortunately, I did not get those talents, so I have to stick to my role as the fan. The supporter. The one who is yelling Go Shocks in a different accent. Honestly and truly it is one hell of ride supporting this school’s basketball teams. The women’s team is currently 6-4 and we are doing good compared to what the critics said and I’m proud. We had a couple of nasty losses, but they continue to push through and get those wins. When I say they will fight to win, those girls will get on the ground, roll and grab for that ball and I truly love it. We got a couple big games next week that have me a little worried, but I know they got this. 
 
Now the guys are currently 5-4. Thank the heavens. We did not start off good and that game against Oklahoma had me mad for days. FOR DAYS. However, they are slowly finding themselves, knowing who what can do what, who will pull up in clutch and who would make those crucial stops and I’m happy for them. They better show out Saturday Night at Intrust Arena because I did not buy me a new sweatshirt and going to catch a lyft down town to watch them lose. Nope Nope. I refuse. 
 
In all honesty, they’ve stressed me out a lot this season. It came to a point where I wanted to fight. I was quickly humbled as I stood next to one of the 7-footers in the dining hall. These man dem huge meh son. ALSO, THE NCAA IS DUMB FOR NOT FREEING TEDDY ALLEN. WE NEED TEDDY.  

​So, that was my first semester in review. Just a likkle ting dere yuh know. It’s officially winter break and for the next five weeks I will be pushing out content. I’m going to be discussing elitism based off an in-class assignment I had to write for American Politics, talk about how the NCAA is really trash, and might dabble around on the homophobia and the transphobia and anti-fatness, things to shake the table a little bit. 
 
To know when I’m updating and all that jazz, follow the blog’s twitter @islandgalting.

“Girl you got yuh legs out, aren’t’ you cold?” 
“Hoes don’t get cold. I’m just kidding.” [inserts laughter] 
“Well I am freezing. I cyan handle this cold.” 
“Well Girl, you’re from Barbados-or one of the hottest places in the world, of course you are going to be freezing.” 
 
That conversation took place on a really cold day after math class, where I met a mutual of mine from Tanzania in front of the elevator. Internally, I had to laugh when she mentioned Barbados. It was way better than the generic Bahamas and the even more generic Jamaica response. I, an Afro-Caribbean Girl from Seh Mahten,  has been at Wichita State University for over two months and this is how it’s been so far. 
 
 
As someone who has been on social media since 2011 during my Mindless Behavior phase (that’s a story I’ll dig up another time), I knew what to expect while coming to this part of the country. I knew that people weren’t going to know where I’m from, expect some very white behavior and to expect more greenery than ever because Kansas is just farm land. With those notes, my first week wasn’t so bad. However, I needed a conservative welcome to a red state, right? 
 
On move in day, one of my roommates, and one of my only friends on campus right now, was moving in with the help of her grandparents. When she arrived, I was in my room, trying to get myself together. Now, we hailed each other up, as I made it an effort to get to know her through Instagram, so it was all cool, with her. . Her grandfather started to ask the basic questions, you know "Where you’re from? What’s your major?, why Wichita?", simple things. However, the tone of his voice had me slightly of edge. I knew something was strange when he continuously mispronounced Sint Maarten or said a completely different word, especially since I had on Sint Maarten tourism shirt, and her grandmother was all nods and smiles. Being the person who hate conflict, I just nodded my head until the left and mumbled to myself “well that was awkward.” Weeks later, my roommate and I were speaking about her grandparents and she was like “Yeah they are super conservative and it’s annoying as hell.” My eyes opened wide and I had to laugh, everything made sense. Day one on campus and I was a victim of polite racism, yay. 
 
This goes to my line that I constantly tell my friends, “It’s one thing to be black in this country, it’s another thing to be foreign and black.” After saying that statement or telling mutuals I'm in Wichita or telling locals that I'm from the Caribbean, I get asked the same series of questions. Why Wichita? Why Kansas? Why Wichita State University?.  Well there are a couple reasons. Firstly, I wanted to experience something new. I really love my home and I really love the Caribbean, but I wanted to get out and experience a fresh breath of air. A lot of people were like, why not Florida? I look to my left, then I look to my right and I laugh. One, I hate Florida as a place in general, two, how am I supposed to get fresh air when if I go to  my options I would see the entire population of Sint Maarten every two seconds. That was no for me. 
 
Secondly, it was one of the schools that accepted me, and it was cheaper than a lot of my other options on this side of the country. Lastly, it’s a basketball school and if you know me, you would know I breathe, eat, sleep basketball. This school allows me to be that fan that would analyze every play, cheer you on and cuss you out. 
 
 
“Hi, I’m Kamilah and my major is Political Science and I’m from this small island in the Caribbean called Sint Maarten.” 
 
I could tattoo that sentence on my own body perfectly. I’ve said it over 200 times since I’ve been here. Every class introduction, group introduction, just speaking to random people in general. It has come to a point where it’s annoying, but I have no choice, since I signed up for it. 

The responses, yes, are the generic ones. My first American Politics class, the  instructor went on to tell a story on how he and his wife went to Jamaica for vacation and stayed in Montego Bay, and went on a rant on how dangerous the place was and ended it with like “you know what’s that like down there right?” 
 
Well um sir, I’m not from Jamaica. I’m from Sint Maarten. I’ve only been to Jamaica once and that was on a cruise and I stopped at Ochi. So, no, I don’t know what it’s like. 
 
The second type of response I’ve gotten is “Oh I love the Bahamas, it was so much fun.” If I’m being honest, those statements make me sad because I’ve never been to the Bahamas and I don’t know how much fun it is down there. However, when I explain to people I’ve never been, they get confused. At this point, I have to go into a brief lesson on how expensive regional travel is and get a “oh that sucks” in response. 
 
The third type is those who state that they have no idea where it is, and I use Puerto Rico as a place they know and state that it’s about 50 minutes by plane away from Puerto Rico. After saying that I got the response “Oh so it’s in Puerto Rico.” I don’t know if my face told my reaction, but I wanted to scream. Inside I was like “Do I speaky spany?” It was just a very emotional moment. 
 
Lastly, there are the ones who have no idea where the Caribbean is, and it makes me question the school system up here. Like how do you not know where an entire region is and its legit right under you? My brain lowkey explodes but then I have to remind myself, I signed up for this. 
 
 
 
Flag carrier. Soca Warrior.
 
If you read my love letter to soca music, you would know I listen to it every day to keep me level headed. I also walk around campus every day with a Sint Maarten Flag scarf tucked into my pants. This is me, taking a piece of home with me every day, but also reminding myself that no matter where I am, I am a cultural ambassador for my island and my region. That’s why I’ve taken the opportunity in my public speaking class to talk about issues that resonate with the region. My first speech was on Hurricane Irma and how it exposed the flaws of Sint Maarten. Personally, I didn’t care if the white kids in my class had no idea where I was from and what was Hurricane Irma, but I presented my information. It was something that was bothering me at that moment and I had to let it out. I passed, but I felt the reaction of the room was “we don’t care about your foreign crap.” For my  second speech, I decided that I needed to speak about Soca. I had recommendations and everything for them and the same feeling came from the room besides from my instructor. I am going to be honest with you, that feeling had me down a bit. I put in my all for some blank faces, but what did I really expect? That didn’t stop me from representing my nation and my region. I will continue to walk around with my flag, yell random soca lyrics at the most awkward times and suggest songs from my region to the people who are around me. 
 
 
The classroom is still weird for me. Math, I usually sit in the back and mentally ask myself “Did I not leave Laksmi in third form?” (SDHS students would understand). In American Politics, I try to contribute but American Politics is just insane and full of trash people. I also do not know as much I thought I knew about American history and politics. Public Speaking, I’m in the back of the class again, in my corner as the Kansas choral would chatter away and in English, oh English, I participate to get participation points and to challenge myself when it comes to ideas and analyzing things. English though, is where my anxiety thrives. There are three black people in my entire English class and I am the only black girl. Sounds fun right? I wouldn’t mind if it was basic grammar and I was just in the back of the class, learning. However, we are assigned a lot of reading pieces and is expected to discuss the reading pieces in class. Problem, there are a lot of Black writings. I’ve noticed that my class does not speak on political writings at all but being the overachiever I am and wanting to get those full participation points, I speak and let my thoughts out into the classroom. That is when things get awkward. Not only that I’m the only black girl in the class that has a non-American accent, I also tend to speak the truth about racism and prejudice in the country and state things about white women that the white girls in my class tend to not like to hear. Awkward. 
 
I’ve also noticed that are a lot of them feel that they are entitled but that’s another post by itself. 
 
Things are also awkward in English when it comes to me organizing my thoughts. Everyone in the Caribbean know when a person says, “di thing over dere” or “and ting”, 80% of the time you know what the person is talking about. Well over here they watch you like you’re insane. Finding words to complete rambled thoughts can be extremely difficult in an already awkward setting and sometimes I just want scream “You know the ting dawg,” but that would made things even worse. 
 
“Huh?”, hasn’t been a regular response as I try my best to enunciate my words as clear as possible. However, using dialect in conversations will usually result in the best reactions possible. Over the weekend, my roommate and I were walking across the courtyard of our building to go our room, and I was ranting about a very awkward moment I just experience. In my rant I was like “Meen even know.” She paused and watched me with wide eyes as her brains tried to process the word I just used. I quickly went into a quick lesson about “meen, yueen etc.” and she nodded her head, finally understanding the concept. 
 
Language will always be a part of my culture. There is no way I will willingly change my dialect in informal conversations, so they could understand what I’m saying. I will also not yank, unless I’m being foolish. 
 
 
Planning out this post, it was supposed to end on the language note and express how this journey has not been an easy one, but yet I’m still grateful for the experience. However, I can’t go into that section without yelling this.

AYU MAN KNOW IT SNOWED ON SUNDAY 14TH OCTOBER 2018??? I… I WAS CONFUSED, CONFUSHED, AND ALL DIFFERENT TYPE OF WORDS THAT COMES FROM CONFUSION. I KNOW, I SIGNED UP FOR THE COLD WHEN I MIGRATED TO MIDDLE OF THE MIDWEST, PUT I THOUGHT I HAD ONE MORE MONTH OF FALL BEFORE THE UNBARABLE WINTER ARRIVE. 
 
I’ve also adapted to this weather that 57 F is nice for me. It’s happening…. 
 
 
 
Now, that I have concluded my rant, I want to end on this note. No matter how far you go home from home, always remember that home is with you in your heart. You as a person is your daily reminder on where you came from and how far you’ve made it in life. Always be a cultural ambassador and I will Rep 721 fuhevah. (Wichita State isn’t ready for the Monday after Saint Martin’s Day.) 

Dear Soul of Calypso, 
 
I write this letter to you from the living room of my cold apartment located on the edge of the Wichita State University. I just want to thank you, thank you for everything you’ve done for me during my first month and change in a new country and an unfamiliar city. Every morning I stick my Sint Maarten flag scarf in my waist and press the play on either my SoundCloud playlist or the one on the music app on my phone and get energized from the various riddims you’ve allowed to shine. Is this a coping mechanism for home sickness? It is, but the words of my favorite artists allow me to remember that home isn’t that far away. Thank you for all the times I’ve yelled “A catching feelings,” well knowing that the feeling is foreign to me. Thank you, the times, where I have to brace myself from yelling “A HORN IS A HORN ONLY IF YOU TAKE IT ON,” on the very white American campus. Thank you for the opportunity to show my two friends why we must “wuk ya waist like a meter” and how we can Celebrate. To the ones that grace my comfort playlist, Destra, Nadia Batson, Kes The Band, Machel Montano, Erphaan Alves, Alison Hinds, Fimba, Fireman, Infusion Band, ExodusHD, XP Band, King Rumer, DJ King Kembe, King Vers, Kenyo, ODD Brothers, No Limit Band and the Red Eye Crew, thank you. Thank you for the craft that you present to us. Thank you for allowing me to cherish in one of my first love, soca. 
 
Regards, 
A Soca Warrior 
Kamilah. 

As people of this vibrant region that’s full of breath taking nature and diverse and deep culture, we Caribbean people truly hate each other. 
 
I use to the term hate to describe the level of animosity that is used when describing one another. Us hating each other doesn’t mean we don’t like each other. We have to like each other to survive but we have to love each other’s existence. Confused? Well allow me to explain. 
 
Xenophobia: intense or irrational dislike or fear of people from other countries.  
 
 
Xenophobic attitudes are worldwide and doesn’t stick to one society, however in the Caribbean we tend have those strong attitudes in every single one of our countries. 
Caribbean pride or unity is something that has been more prevalent over the last decade as we started to produce mainstream artists, world class athletes and other worldwide influencers. It’s a movement that encourages the region to be together as one. 
 
This type of Caribbean unity is needed in order for socio-economic institutions  such as the Caribbean Community (Caricom) and The Organization of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS) to thrive. We can’t promote free movement of labour, a single market etc., if we don’t showcase that we can get a long as one. 
 
Here is the problem, we can barely see each other passing on the road. 
 
As a Seh Mahtener, I grew up in a society where this type of attitude is second nature. This 37 square miles is one of the most multi culture island in the region yet, for most of my child hood, many communities were (are) separated. 
 
In this xenophobic community of mine, we tend to place persons who are not considered “Seh Mahteners” into groups that are related to their origin: 

1. Haitians 
2. Jamaicans
3. Spanish (Dominicans, Venezuelans, Colombians, Panamanians) 
4. Dominican 
5. Other English Speaking Country People  

 
Xenophobia usually thrives when cultures clash. In this community, cultures clash ALL THE TIME. 
 
From simple debates to which island is better, to how they live, the purpose of migrating or to the simple fact that they are so many of them that live here. 
 
We have one of the biggest Dominican community, due to the fact that many men in the late 19th Century/ early 20th Century migrated to the Dominican Republic to work in the oil industry. Many of these men left families over there and when the economic declined in the country, many people who claim Seh Mahten heritage, among others migrated  for better opportunities.
 
This mass migration over the last 30+ years has annoyed the “locals” to the fact that they are the ones taking up all the social welfare, they are the ones that are always up late with their loud music and drinking. Some of these statements apply but they are usually filled with fear, hatred and simple disgust. 
The same goes for the mass migration of Haitians. Many people speak about them with distaste as they come with the idea that all of them practice witchcraft or obeah, or are a part of a super religious community or speak a language that no one understands so they are automatically talking crap about us. 
 
Many persons in the Haitian community would usually take the “lower class job” or become the street vendors due to the lack of proper documentation, or education in a way to provide for their family and that their children will be able to be educated and live the best life they can. 
 
Many of the other groups are looked down upon on as a way that they carry themselves or how they speak because it doesn’t fit in the narrative of the pride the “locals” deal with. 
However this is the gag (always wanted to say that), living in a multi-cultural society that is located on such a small mass of land, no one is truly “foreigner” or “local” anymore. Caribbean people have mixed and mingled among each other for years to raise their children in this community as branded as “Seh Mahteners” 
 
No one, is truly from here. My mother’s lineage is Antiguan, most of my classmates lineages are from the English speaking Caribbean, other Antillen (Dutch Caribbean) countries, Asian, etc. yet we still identified ourselves as Seh Mahteners. 
Why? It’s because the merge of the various cultures has become our culture and our identity.
 
Unfortunately this doesn’t stop the xenophobic attitudes within our local and  broader communities(the region). Social media has created a platform where persons who live on other islands are able to interact with one another on a regular basis. 
 
A great and current example of xenophobia throughout the entire region is the current debate over Rihanna’s new dancehall project as if it’s culture appropriation or not since she is Barbadian and not Jamaican.
Apparently a set claims that because she isn’t Jamaican she shouldn’t do it another set claims Dancehall is a regional genre another set says well if we can’t claim dancehall don’t claim soca and carnival another set saying this is just proof y’all don’t really like Jamaicans, and I Kamilah Gumbs is saying shut up because we are all sounding stupid. 
 
Yes, Dancehall is a genre originated in Jamaica. However Barbados, according to my mother who spent 4 years at the University of West Indies Cavehill Campus, is a very dancehall oriented island. Rihanna always stated how she grew up listening to the genre this becoming a part of her own cultural experience. 
 
Dancehall, alongside Reggae, Soca, Calypso, Zouk, Kompa, Boyoun, Bachata, Reggaeton etc., are all Caribbean genres that were created and specialized in different communities but has become of different individual culture experiences.  
 
Someone’s culture experience should not be an open target for your xenophobic attitude. Just because they aren’t from your island doesn’t mean they haven’t had a certain experience, just because they don’t speak like you or move like you, doesn’t mean you the other Caribbean person, the person that needs to representing Caribbean pride as a part of our socio-economic development, should not speak about your fellow brothers and sisters with words that scream xenophobia.  
 
As I mentioned that I am still living in a xenophobic society, despite of all the cultural changes. EVERY CARIBBEAN ISLAND HAS A XENOPHOBIC ATTITUDE WHETHER IT’S UPFRONT OR BEHIND CLOSED DOORS, AND WE NEED TO CHANGE THAT NARRATIVE IN ORDER FOR US TO BE UNITED AS ONE REGION AND IN ORDER FOR US TO MOVE FROM THIS STAGNANT PLACE THAT WE’VE BEEN SITTING IN FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF YEARS IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF OUR LOCAL AND REGIONAL SOCIETIES. WE, MEMBERS OF CARICOM, OECS, SPANISH SPEAKING NATIONS, AMERICAN OVERSEAS TERRITORIES, DUTCH CARIBBEAN, FRENCH CARIBBEAN NEEDS TO GET OUR ACT TOGETHER AND LEARN THAT OUR DIFFERENCES THAT WE ARE SO AFRAID OF, IS ONE OF THE MINOR ISSUES TO THE SIMILARITES THAT WE SUFFER WITH ECONOMICALLY AND SOCIALLY IN THIS REGION.
 
So can we, kindly, end this stupid debate, realise our flaws (because I’m just as bad as the next man) and better ourselves? 
 
Come do bettuh nuh man. 

Feel free to discuss your opinions with us on twitter @islandgalting or comment below !

​Hello. I’m writing this letter from my humble home on our beautiful island of Saint Martin in the year 2018. Today I want to talk to you about how the news have an effect on my thought process. The news always send my brain into a slight overdrive, but certain topics tend to plague my mind for days, even weeks.
 
On Monday 9th July 2018, reports regarding the insurance company in the Dutch Caribbean, Ennia and how the handle their pension finances shed a new light on the business is truly operated. You can read the article from stmaartennews.com here.
Now I’m not an expert on insurance or how insurance companies and this letter has nothing to do with the high level of corruption within the company. This letter has to do with a specific fact that was highlighted in the aforementioned article. 

​After reading that final paragraph of the article, I got more annoyed and upset at the entire situation. I quickly sent the article to Tori and we had various exchanges of capitalized “BREHS” and “BRUHS” because of how ridiculous that one specific fact is; THE GOVERNMENT OF SINT MAARTEN HAS GIVEN AWAY SO MUCH LAND.
 
How, you may ask. Well there is this thing I like to call a blessing and a curse and it’s simply called long-leased land. Long-leased land was basically an initiative that would allow locals to be able to afford to purchase land and pay for it for a long extended period of time.
 
Dear past and (long term) present leaders,
I know that prior to the 1960’s our island didn’t’ have a set industry that provided a sustainable income to our economy after the closure of the salt factory. The revolutionary idea of going into the tourism industry has given us a steady stream of economic growth that has helped us to be some-what sustainable and has attracted many migrants from across the region and the world. 
This beautiful land that we call home,  has also attracted a lot of foreign investors who would help develop many of the major hotels on the island. This was the beginning of a new era. However, my great leaders, there were too many flaws in this great tourism start up that has put the people of the nation in great distress.
 
Public Enemy Number 1: Land.
 
How can you sell cooperate investors land on the same long-leased rates that were in place to help the people of Sint Maarten? Were you not aware of how much money we lost out by selling millionaires who know how to invest and sell, watch the price increase and sell again or did you not care about the money that the society would lose out on and was just worried about the initial money that would grace your pockets?

Selling land to these investors at such a cheap rate has allowed for an environment for serious corruption to thrive. This has helped major companies such as Ennia to practice their unmoral activities in the dark for years and other sketchy business practices such as importing cheaper labour and working around many tax holidays. These major businesses that swore they help our economy, are masters in finding the many loopholes that were never patched to make their pockets bigger and hardly contributing to the society that they function in.

Among that, you never put emphasis on the importance of keeping our culture alive, proper environmental planning and preserving our national monuments. The lack of foresight on these subject matters has put us behind many years are we are trying to rush to create a concrete cultural identity and suffering with the environmental harms of our dump and loss of eco systems around our ponds and bays.
 
It was evident that the dollar sign had more importance that the proper development of this nation. Thanks to the lack of people over self within your various governments over the decades, we are now in a position where we are constantly screaming “WE NEED TO FIX THIS.”
 
Going back to the capitalized fueled conversation between Tori and I, we realized once more that we really need to do something to change our society. The question is, what can we do to fix this issue?
The answer is not a straight forward one. Unfortunately we don’t know. The issues that we are dealing with traces back to policies and decisions that were created 40+ years ago and the lack of files and data doesn’t make the process any easier. 
 
I conclude with this. Thank you for initiating the tourism era and all the good it has done for this nation, however thanks to you, we have more work to complete and more things to regulate.
 
Sincerely,
Annoyed Youth, Kamilah S.N. Gumbs