Canadian Transplant looks at Barbadian Hypocrisy and names it for what it is: Modern-Day Emperor’s New Clothes (NC-17)

Canadian Transplant looks at Barbadian Hypocrisy and names it for what it is: Modern-Day Emperor’s New Clothes (NC-17)

Ever look at Bim’s “Is there anybody out there?” very good reading… She has two gems; one looks at the hypocrisy of Barbadians with sex and religion in “Of Jesus, Eunuchs and the Trojan Horse” –

…madame sex candy connoiseur was sitting in front of her computer assuming my friend wanted to size up her internet porn. But alas, Theresa Twat had her Christian minded attention focused on some hot and steamy gospel videos. I had this sinking feeling that we should run but the legs wouldn’t move. With our shutdefuckup purchase of Irish Cream Liquid Heat we got a complimentary critique on our shabbyness as wives and mothers.

She also lashes at ppl who can watch victimisation and do nothing in the same entry –

On my way home today I was held up in a eunuch motorcade. Young men, no longer in school yet still without a thing to do but wait for the final bell to ring, joined forces of about 6 to 1 and entertained the Pine intersection by cuffing and kicking the shit out of boy solo. They then proceeded to take full advantage of the road works construction and armed themselves with heavy boulders- heaving and chucking them at the boy’s back, chest and head. I hung up my phone, rolled down my window and hollered “LEAVE THE FUCKING BOY ALONE!” and then I leaned on my horn…

This is a sad state of affairs in this country when there are claims by some that once we would have leapt out of our cars and cat-spraddle these brutes. She has a kind of follow up on why we have devolved in “Debridement of National Narcissism, Please” –

Why don’t you carry your white foreign ass home!
Only thing- this is home.

This is where I grew into a woman; this is where I bore my child; this is where I learned to think; this is where I surrendered. This is more than twelve years of my life. It’s become me.

But twelve years or not, I can’t let go of those formative years up north. I can’t pretend that my roots aren’t elsewhere. And I can’t look at this country from inside a rose coloured fish bowl and pretend our shit smells sweeter than everyone else.

We’re thieves, racists, backstabbers, liars and cheaters. We’re disloyal, uncompassionate, shallow, unforgiving and malicious. Bajans. It’s we culcha. And yet despite all these things, I love BIM and I find my way to laughter. I endure year after year with new discovery of how happy I am on this rock. Shit, we’re only human. My arms are too full of sins to carry stones.

This is a very accurate and deadly analysis of how we treat ppl who are not only foreign and Caucasian but what Mad Bull calls “brownings” like him and myself – if we get better luck or bigger portions, it’s not because we were nicer to folk, it’s because of our pigmentation and don’t you forget that!

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