The tagline on Lily Allen’s myspace profile page currently says “most people don’t know how to make love” and let’s just say for the sake of this here blog, that she is right. As opposed to being prudish, as some people may have taken it, what she is really poking fun at, is the popular discourse on sex, commonly seen in today’s popular culture. “Making love” and all its inherent connotations is nowhere near as in vogue as, “fucking.”

Even Fifty Cent’s not into it and that’s saying a lot. (Insert irony here). For reference, see that oft-cited line from “In da Club,” which says, “I’m into having sex, I ain’t into making love.” So, Lily as a pop artist herself and a young female operating in that world–well she probably understands this just as well as anyone. It’s quite interesting that she is a young female critiquing sex so brazenly and unabashedly. Yet also unsurprising. It seems that where heterosexual relations are concerned, it’s okay for women to do this. Men however, like Fifty, must never, ever bemoan the absence of “love-making” in their life. That’s just not cool. Right?

Now one of the problems with investigating the extent of pop cultural influences (or dancehall cultural influences for that matter), has to do with the fact that there’s a huge barrier to confront, when it comes to asking persons about their sexual attitudes and preferences. Then what they might actually be willing to admit about it. This versus what really goes on in the confines of anyone’s bedroom, which in actuality, is anyone’s guess. Then one must also consider the fact that young people (and/or the young at heart for that matter) form a large contingent of those very people who you want to ask about the relevance and impact of pop cultural definitions on their own bedroom behavior. And of course, no one wants to think about young people having sex, far less for discussing it (even though they clearly are). Worse yet, if we connect this all back to the pervasiveness of celebrities and pop cultural utterances. Wait, celebrities have influence?

So, what’s in a word anyway? Whether you make love, have sex, fuck or what have you? Plenty. Mainly because of the sub text and the meaning that we put behind the words. I suppose I am more concerned with what these terms mean for our attitudes toward sex and sexuality. We understand this too, so as a result, there is a distinct difference that we all attach to someone singing/saying, “so come make love to me” compared to “sit down pon it, sit down pon it.” The two being invitations/descriptions for the same activity nonetheless.

Along with music, dances today, can tell a lot about our attitudes toward sex and sexuality. As cultural norms shift and change, we can see a lot of these ideas reflected in the dances that we do. Dancing has long been linked to sex and for good reasons too. That’s why the local religious zealots flood the Trinidad and Tobago newspapers with letters after each Carnival season complaining about the display of wanton wining on tv and in pictorial spreads. That’s also why certain members of the so-called prestige convent schools in Trinidad have “no contact” dances. I mean, a sweet flex in a party can be one of the most sexually charged episodes in life! But we cannot have the convent girls getting all aroused now can we?

From the American public’s furor over Elvis Presley’s hip gyrations to the “perreo” dances of Latino youth which have scandalized many an abuela I’ve heard—dancing and sex go hand in hand. The explosion of new dances to dancehall music is especially telling as well. Partner dancing with another person (or on them for that matter) is steadily falling away to increasingly popular independent dances, in unison with a group perhaps but essentially solitary acts of “raging bull,” “tek way yuhself” and anything more current that I don’t know the name of.

Long gone are our parents’ days of “rent-a-tile” or even the sweaty May fair flex of yesteryear when somebody had yuh on lock on a wall somewhere taking a wine. Sure, there have always been specific “dances” connected to certain dancehall songs but nowadays, the advent of dances seems to have exploded into epic proportions. Either they are coming out faster or I just couldn’t be bothered but they seem plentiful and awful hard to keep track of. Some of these new dances are hyper-sexualized beyond compare. On top of all this, the majority seem devoid of any contact with another human being with only a few exceptions. Most interestingly is watching the ways in which these “ravers clavers” affect the dynamics of a crowd in a party.

I mean you either know the new dance that came out in Jamaica like, that very morning, or you just don’t. This creates an interesting invisible boundary, with everybody else on one side and those who know the dance on the other. Those are the people who astutely execute the new dances plus it’s also a definite cultural marker. Sort of like Trinis in a party whenever “Trini to the bone” comes on. (Many other West Indians know and do these dances too but you catch my drift). People can do these new dances too for a very, very, very, long time before they decide to go hold on to another individual. Gone too are sessions filled with endlessly having to dance with another person and at least, maybe ask them for one dance. Either you do that or hold down somebody for the greater part of the night to save yourself the pressure.

Certainly, you can always find females holding their own in the midst of all this but most noticeably in the “passa-passa” type moves. As for where passa-passa is concerned, all this “hot fuck”-ing and simulated sex (bad sex at that) leaves me wondering how all these things are affecting male ideas of sex. So many young men see their dancing skills as representative of their virility. This being representative of their skill, an extension of their sexual self even. Thus they think it’s really cute to pick up a girl and ram her like a human jackhammer in a circle of people.

If you’re a female in or near that kind of dance circle, prepare to have your body swamped and owned. And you’d better be malleable like the dough of a pretzel. The sexual aggro of dancehall dejays’ lyrics today and their accompanying dances are at an all time high. I’ve heard many people I know say with regard to this issue, that dancing cannot possibly get any dirtier. We’ve all heard about porn and the impact it has in aiding in the objectification of women as purely sexual beings and what about these dances that form the basis of a kind of creative expression as well as sexual expression? What connections if any, can be drawn from young men who choose to wipe the floor with a female back for their dancing/pseudo sexual pleasure or those who think it’s cool to do so? What messages does this send to young women?

I like to consider myself an advocate for healthy, responsible, sexual behavior and attitudes (should one choose to go that route). As well as trying to empower people along the way while they’re at it. Yet, our patriarchal society makes it much easier for men to do so but unacceptable for women. Females are constantly oppressed by societal pressure and various conventions that make it difficult for sexually active (and or potentially sexually active) young women to become equipped with the tools: mentally, physically, emotionally and otherwise so that they might experience balanced, sexually fulfilled lives.

Codes of behavior reinforced by music and other forms of pop culture like some acted out in dances–make it difficult as well. “No gyal cah sit down pon mi head/ If a gyal try dat she dead” and all that stuff. Yet in hip-hop, it’s cool to “lick it like a lollipop.” Meanwhile girls in passa-passa type dances are supposed to “tek buddy” and “tek it” very well. They earn kudos for doing this well. Men are encouraged to give it–hard. Devoid of much of anything else. Somewhere along the lines of having someone “tump up yuh pussy like a punching bag” or “dug out (like) dirt.” Which might very well be someone’s preference but this should not by any means, completely presumptively define sexual expression nor should it by default, define some female’s sexual experience, just because she happens to be female. Female sexual organs do not need to be solely defined by how well they can (potentially) receive a hundred stabs (or less, or more). Just listening to that Aidonia song makes my vagina hurt.

Songs like, “She loves me” by Serani aptly set the contemporary dancehall love-song bar quite um, high, with his descriptions of sex without emotion, specifically to quote him, “fucking.” And this is with his girl. Lyrics infused with anger, bordering on violent because that just makes for better sex in the end for him and presumably, her:

“So baby girl I’m gonna get you undressed
I know you like it when I give you rough sex
bend over let me hold you from your neck, piss me off and let mi get upset
I bet you know what’s gonna come next
no fore play, no kiss, no caress upon mi shoulder a weh yuh gonna put your legs,
we gonna have the best make-up sex, t
he way that she fucks me,
The way that she carry on, she know that it turns me on
She knows that I love her ,
The way that I fuck her and I know that it turns her on
The way that I carry on.”

So…um yeah. That sounds simply, wonderful. Now how you choose to define and express your own sexual experience, is your own personal decision at the end of the day but I don’t think that any kind of absence of consideration for your partner is ever a good thing. Consideration in intimacy is never, ever a bad thing people. Or in life in general. Yet we see this expressed time and time again and encouraged repeatedly. Plus if you’re giving it to her hard, while you’re at it, that’s even more ideal. This seems to be the only acceptable form of sexual expression for men that we ever hear about frequently. Appropriations of bedroom activity from a male view often reference borderline violent imagery and violent metaphors where the phallus might be akin to a nine millimeter for example. Plus all the onomatopoeic sounds that we hear lyrically always allude to the hardness and severity of certain bedroom activities. The amount of times that you hear sexual references in dancehall in this manner are astounding. Whether it’s getting “beat, ram, fling, pump up, jack up, jab, dig, dagger, stab,” among others frequently used.

Many men and women out there easily transfer these reinforced ideas from the dancehall into the bedroom. It doesn’t help that the majority of rap and dancehall songs epitomize successful sex from the standpoint of a man (many times sung by a man as well). Thus a session is successful because of what a man gave and ideally how hard it was given. The biggest problem with all these men and djs singing about what they think a woman wants and likes is twofold: anyone who has ever browsed certain women’s magazines for example, can see how the pervasive discourse on sex, encourages women to do whatever it takes to keep her man happy first and foremost. Not necessarily because she enjoys doing whatever it may take.

Secondly, because many popular masculine expressions of male heterosexual sexuality do not make allowances for things like consideration, love, tenderness and vulnerability, I cannot help but think that the man’s point of view is a bit affected by this quandary. Is that what women really what or just what men are allowed to express that women want? So yes, sex sells in music as in everything else but despite our personal and private choices, we should all be conscientious of the ways in which sex and sexuality are presented, packaged, sold and consumed by us all. Inevitably I fear, certain ideas become internalized and burnt into the fabric of our consciousness. I am not too sure that we would all want that—or should want that.

been meaning since i settled, to post about “the state of things” back here in sweet trini but that seems to not be how i operate- the more i want to post about something, the less it happens. plus, “the state of things” not really my style, anyway.
but i at least wanted to say out loud that i’m (still) happy to be home. so many people wondered why i made this move, expressed doubts at my continued desire to be here, as though i didn’t come home while i was away and see for myself, as though i didn’t pay attention to the state of things while i was gone, as though i didn’t have the determination to do the things i always (repeat, always) said i intended to do, as though i never said i never wanted to leave in the 1st place, as though where i was wasn’t worse politically and otherwise, as though is enough to say “it have nuttin for we here” without making the effort to stick around and create something for we here- like they doh know me at all.
talk all you want about the crime+traffic + traffic+crime- i spent 10years in washington dc, sometime murder-capital-usa, 5 of them in the trinidad neighbourhood(dc); trinidad w.i. have nothing on traffic+crime i ent see already, from the bullet that buss through our window casing, cutting its less-than-parabolic trajectory through our bedroom, and lodged itself in our guestroom closet within the 1st 9months of owning (or rather, owing the bank for) our dc house, to war crimes committed by a gov’t that trusts it can make anything true by saying it often enough because it wukkin for them thus far. kidnapping may be (currently) bigger in sweet trini than trinidad dc but we lived in crime central, sharing our neighbourhood with the biggest dealer with the best stash in the city, bullet-studded turf wars, and swat teams, where police capture criminals (the few occasions they do) using their cars to bounce them down in the road. we learned the difference between firecrackers and gunfire by listening to it zinging by our doors+windows while ducking in the living room, knowing fully that bullets do sometimes strike the same place twice while luck might not. we even had the prerequisite pipers doing shit like breaking into a car to steal a box of dead on our street.
so i not saying everything sweet in trini but it still worth my time+effort to help make something more of this island with such potential, and if i fighting up somewhere, better fight up here where i still actually have hope for people, love for this place, plus navel string drawing tighter, pulling me to work to improve our lot instead of running to deceptively greener pastures that only offer more of the same, and worse, without our best weather and food and beach and music and mas and the sweetness that still here under the shit to soften the blows.
we sold our trinidad dc house in april and came home; a friend still living blocks from our (s)old place wrote me in mid-july that while: “…coming down mt. olivet [ave] one night last week from home depot…one of those rarer occasions when the traffic turning right onto west virginia [ave] was longer and backed-up so i took the left lane across west virginia to turn onto montello [our old street] and came across 2cop cars, at least 4officers. there was a car ahead of me, they were getting carded. officer asked me to see my id…i showed it to him and he said i didn’t live in the neighborhood and should go around. i said, what’s the problem? he said, with so many deaths in the area they were carding everyone going into the neighborhood and suggested i went around. i told him i know the neighborhood very well and would take my chances and he permitted me through. there were more cops sitting on penn [ave] who didn’t stop me and another cop @ the other end of montello near florida [ave]. it was the clearest i’ve ever seen montello of people. quiet and clear, and creepy. that park (the community center) down montello from 1425 [was our house] has a tree on the corner with all kinda memorial stuff from where one person was murdered. that was the only night i had to deal with the roadblocks, but saw the cop lights from down 12th [street] at least 1other night. otherwise i live just far away enough that the roadblocks didn’t affect me. so many killings (8 or 9) in the trinidad neighborhood in the last few weeks that the city set up a roadblock to monitor the neighborhood for 6days…”
and this was before the supreme court reversed the dc gun ban…he blogged about his experience, including heavy police prescence circling his non-trinidad block, and a washington post article explaining the police justification and justifiably angry civilian response; less than 24hours later a shooter opened fire in our old neighbourhood, wounding 7 and killing 1 (visiting minor), delivering an excuse to maintain the unconstitutional roadblocks in trinidad, dc.
i feel baddish for the couple that bought our house, but they can fight their fight on behalf of their people; i’ll be here fightin’ up with mine in sweet trini.
walk good.

disclosure: this post is also over @ sweet trini’s urban folk tales.

reading frenzy

December 12, 2008

trinidad noir reading went very well, even with my coming down with a cold the morning of, watching with horror what i thought was just morning sniffles develop into loss of hearing in 1 ear and the ability to breathe with my mouth closed. i even had a massive sneezing fit @ the venue while the 1st author read, so i was terrified until i was done that i’d just fill the microphone with sniffles, sneezes, snorting and other phlegmy phrases, but as soon as i apologised in advance for my sniffles and launched my story (after being pleasingly intro’d as “edgy”), i was somehow fine. people said i read well (plenty compliments for john on my vocal delivery) and have one of the strong stories in the collection, i was asked to sign books, and even had the pleasure of my mother telling me i was good (extremely rare), plus i pulled off a voice-over today, delivering 3 completely different takes in no time without sounding like i still can’t hear myself or breathe properly. so i feel like crap but work wukkin’…
walk good.

disclosure: this post is also @ sweet trini’s urban folk tales.

collective…

December 8, 2008

…because i suddenly realised i hadn’t been blogging here and should pull together what i’ve missed lately- these items are also (not in 1 post, though) all over @ sweet trini’s urban folk tales:

realised i never said boo about trinidad noir– i got my copies, devoured it then promptly did again, and really enjoyed it both times. it’s a strong collection; i nearly peed laughing reading bobby antoni’s piece and immediately saw how the american reviewers lost out having never heard trinis talk, thus unable to comprehend our language muddied with text-message-style delivery, but it’s hysterical. i loved some pieces and liked almost all.
i was totally not embarrassed by my work when i saw it amongst the others like someone had once threatened (a certain jackass said mine was “pornographic”, “vulgar” and “obscene” and threatened to withdraw from the collection if it was published as written; luckily i had an editor+publisher on my side) but was quite pleased and love its placement (so if you read the book, don’t skip ahead to mine because you know me- read in order) and it’s one of the better (neo?)noir collections i’ve read, even with a couple stories that might not strictly classify as noir.
and now i’m rereading mine for an excerpt, prepping for a reading i was asked to be part of next week. so there’s a trinidad noir reading @ normandie (6.30pm thursday december11) and i’m assuming that once i find an excerpt i can handle the anxiety will give way to thrill…

@ dance class, after skipping through a dvd to find the piece being remounted and watching to ensure it was intact, aunty noble tells grims, before you take it out, just rewind it to the top of the piece for me so we could find it when we ready to rehearse…
she cracks my shit up.

in my itunes, there’s a very small group of albums that when uploaded, are genre-categorised “unclassifiable”: nico’s super hero to many small insects, ataklan‘s atamorphosis, andre tanker‘s bim(+beyond), machel montano+xtatik‘s charge!!
all trini artistes, among my all-time favourites…
i’m trying not to cry for 12‘s album not yet in my hands+ears, knowing it’s worth the wait, believing that it will also prove “unclassifiable”- live or recorded, this select company is where 12 belongs…

walk good.

The Trinidad Theatre Workshop (TTW) brings New Acts back to our Playwrights’ Theatre this weekend for a much-requested repeat performance by our New Actors Workshop graduates.

These performers spent 12 weeks using improvisation, text analysis and concentrated scene work to explore acting, character development and performance techniques with veteran actor, TTW’s Artistic Managing Director, Albert Laveau. They worked from the fundamentals of stage craft and character building, to mounting a performance so well received that TTW has been pressed for another run. The response to the show has been overwhelming from audience members pleasantly surprised by the journey from the serious to the comic, from the contemplation of art to politics and popular culture.

Trinidad Theatre Workshop invites the public to see fresh, local talent onstage in New Acts at our Playwrights’ Theatre (23 Jerningham Avenue, Belmont) at 8pm on Friday September 12th and Saturday 13th, and 6pm on Sunday September 14th.

This adults-only production is directed by Albert Laveau, with Assistant Director Lylah Persad and Rehearsal Assistant Evelyn Caesar Munroe. These emerging performers soon to be gracing stages in Port-of-Spain and beyond have set the bar high for this September’s New Actors Workshop (registration ongoing).

For tickets, registration for the current New Actors or other Workshops, and any other information, please call TTW at 624.8502.

New Acts Tickets: $100.
TTW Telephone: 624.8502.
TTW Email: trinidadtheatre@gmail.com

Performance Workshops Resume At Trinidad Theatre Workshop
Trinidad Theatre Workshop (TTW) is happy to announce that on September 6th, 2008, we will resume our regular Children’s Theatre Workshop (ages 8-12; Saturdays, 9am-noon) and Teen Theatre Studio (ages 13-17; Saturdays, 1-4pm) which run concurrent with the school year. Our New Actors Workshop resumes on Wednesday September 10, 2008.
Children’s Theatre Workshop (CTW) aims to develop the 8-12-year-old’s imagination, voice and body, using theatre skills that aid growth both as performers and as people. Every child will receive core training in acting techniques, but we also work on voice, movement, costumes, scriptwriting, etc. to offer a diversity of options to each student.
Teen Theatre Studio (TTS) encourages adolescents to explore their emotions and express themselves, with the understanding that theatre education improves self-confidence, provides valuable life-skills, and helps broaden the perspective of developing minds. We expose Teen Theatre Studio to all aspects of playmaking, from script analysis to stage management to performance, and offer the opportunity to hone audition techniques for those who may be interested in pursuing a career onstage.
We will also be starting the next cycle of our New Actors Workshop (age 18 and over; current cycle ongoing) which will run for 12 weeks from September 10, 2008, on Wednesdays from 5-8pm. The New Actors Workshop (beginners welcome!) uses acting and improvisation, character development, text analysis and scene work to build performance technique and stage confidence that can be applied not just onstage, but to any aspect of anyone’s professional life.
Registration has begun for these classes and places are limited, so if interested, please call 624-8502 now for more details.

Website: http://www.ttw.org.tt
Email: trinidadtheatre@gmail.com
Phone: 624-8502.
Fax: 627-8521.

walk good.

     I am a child of the 80’s. Between my older sister and my brother’s hand me down’s [we’re all 4 yrs apart], I was privy to inherit quite a cache of stuff. Eventually, my dolls were given away to cousins in Guyana and others rounded up for donations when I went away for school in the US (the bitterness is still waning on that). So only my Paddington bear remains, salvaged and unearthed by my Mum one year, now ever a staple on my pillow. Naked, sans blue coat, time worn fur and all. Poor thing was almost chucked across the room by an errant young man, who grew to learn, that under no circumstances does anyone “disrespect the bear.” After all, he’s all I’ve got. But I do miss my dolls. While there was always a fondness for all things Fisher-Price and the “little people” line especially. I mean, their shit just took a beating and kept on ticking, that ferris wheel toy never once faltered on me–talk about expert craftsmanship. I still loved playing with dolls best.

     Although my brother’s Millennium Falcon and talking Kit car interested me: I was still all about the dollies. All the dolls I owned, for the most part however, came fresh from out beneath a sharp-edged, plastic casing, because my sister had not been a huge fan of dolls. The only thing she ever contributed to the doll stash I so dearly loved, was a bright yellow Barbie brand rv, complete with a shower and roof top lounge deck. The stickered, faux design interior denoting where was the shower was and whatnot, was disintegrating and flaking by this time. I could idly scrape bits of them away with my finger nail if I wanted to. I always wondered how come no Barbies lived to tell the tale. Surely she had a Barbie rv with which to drive Barbies around in. I never did solve that mystery.

     Years later, I thought about the coded “Barbie pink” color of all things Barbie, and all things girl-related for that matter, in the toy aisle of any major retailer, and thought that that old school Barbie rv must have been anomaly. Either that, or that was before the toy makers decided that all Barbie things must be swathed in the socially constructed color of girl-hood. And was I ever a huge fan of dolls! I especially loved all my black barbies, the soft, brown-skinned colored rag doll that my mum’s old friend had made for me in America, my Raggedy Ann which was the only white doll that my parents bought ever me (I grew up in an Afro-centric house), my cute Huggy Bean, down to my “life sized” sweet black baby doll and others. I would create alternate realities and voice extensive conversations and story lines between my dolls from day-to-day. I believe this all helped to facilitate the tremendous range of imagination and creative energy that I now possess. Or borderline psychoses. Whichever. Existing in–immersing in even–alternate realities might not be considered entirely healthy by some folk.

     Mind you, I “played” with my barbies, acting out socially inscribed anxieties and fears and wishes, relishing in their plethora of storylines and outfits, until the age of 14; which was considered freakishly old by some people, to still be mucking about with dolls. I remember my Dad was particularly concerned, the summer that I turned 14, on a trip to the States, when I made it my business to get two more dolls. Barbie’s little sister Skipper (black Skipper that is), and Kelly. With a side-eye to a recent article I read about the adult and cult-like following of “dollfies” and “super dollfies,” there’s a part of me, with a cringing reluctance, that sees how that could possibly be kinda fun. Seriously.

     With an exposure to feminism and feminist theories, later on, I know much can be said about the real problematic concerns about dolls like Barbie and her friends, and the images that they present, through that lens. For me then, it was always fun times though, of course, clearly oblivious to the cultural, social and gender implications therein. Lots of good times with the occasional bad doll haircut along the way. I was less concerned with what Barbie looked like or what her lifestyle afforded I think, than simply being able to create–my own world, with just me and them. Hairstyling and outfits were just an added bonus. Plus I never did own the dream house or corvette so I just made do with what I had.

     I was never one of those girls who violently mutilated my barbies, no testing the life span of her waxy finished rubbery-ish legs for me–the knee could bend only so far after all. I could hear it pop under each undulation of my hand inside my head right now. It’s a peculiar sound that is. And certainly no snapping off the head of a Barbie to expose the ball joint in the neck, which for the record, is virtually impossible to get back in. Okay so maybe I did that once. Speaking of the marvelous extent of doll-play, I want to pay homage to Golden Girl and the Guardians of the Gemstones, for allowing the premise of action figures for young girls to take flight and for allowing us to participate. Along with She-Ra, they were kick ass women figurines (albeit pretty and appropriately coifed and made up) wielding weapons! And spunk and style and special powers and talents!

     Still, I always wished they were a bit bigger though for some reason. But they are small in comparison to barbies and the like. Small enough to pit against, and take down a Darth Vader or a Storm Trooper. I came across this pic below of Onyx who was among the characters that I loved best and the first Golden Girl which I possessed. I later “inherited” a Catra from a friend–well technically borrowed, didn’t remind her and held on to. She had practically every doll in each line there was. Of course, the lone black character is the black stone, (logical right), embodying its very qualities almost: smooth like obsidian, black and fierce. A veritable warrior, cased in a baby pink outfit no less. She usurps the supposed girliness of the very color she wears; perhaps this is done to off set the fierceness and the blackness of it all. Black warrior, black stone.

     These action dolls allowed girls to explore the multifarious identities of their girlhood. One minute combing doll hair, and adjusting cute dresses lovingly, the next, charging through a court yard, with someone’s mother’s bejeweled letter opener (which we actually did), triumphing that good will eclipse evil. Combined with the irreverence for traditional representations of girls’ fashion dolls, and the girly appropriateness of shiny, pretty things–Onyx and her friends reminded me that girl dolls can carry weapons, kick butt and stave off evildoers, which also reminds me, that so can I (no really, I can!).  Anyway, I’m off to rouse up a band of females to conquer a villainous nemesis. Ok, not quite. But it’s a fun thought anyway.