Nashaya Lyons-Watson

English 1100

9/02/2015

Prof. Young

Jamaican Flag 

“Mi luv jamdung” is how I love Jamaica would come out in patwa. Patwa is broken English. I was born half Jamaican and half native american but nobody could probably tell that from just one look at me. I also probably don’t sound like it as well but despite those outward identifying points I still would never be able to forget or suppress that part of me. My grandparents are what keeps the Jamaican spirit alive in me with their stories of Jamaica, variety of foods from the country and their way of life. They don’t let me forget who I fully am. Identity is a unique representation of culture seen by yourself and other, that is what identity means to me.

Gloria Anzaldua talks a lot about her identity in her article “How to Tame a Wild Tongue”. Anzaldua states that her language is her identity varies of time throughout her piece. She also addresses how many have tried to suppress and in a way try and assimilate her into the “american culture”. One quote that really stuck with me throughout her article was when she said “So if you really want to hurt me, talk badly about my language.” I can relate to what she says but culture wise. I’ve been around people that stereotype

Jamaicans. Some stereotypes are that we are always late, smoke weed to much, we practice voodoo and even all Jamaicans are poor. Which in no way  is true because we are all different individuals. Our culture might not be looked on as poorly as some of the West Indies but we do get our fair share of blows. Personally our cultures shouldn’t be judged. They are all unique and different and contribute a lot to others and ourselves, and I would never try and erase that part of myself.

Christmas in Florida with my Family

My grandparents live in Florida now. My family and I would go down there on vacations when I was younger. When we went down there they had certain rules they kept by. Such as when they made foods that came from Jamaica we would at least try a piece, when addressing someone we would say “Yes, grandma or Yes, Mom. No impolite “yeahs” or “huhs”. Also that we are at the table at a certain time and eat together as a family and go to Christmas mass at their cathedral. I would try almost anything she made from platanos, jerk chicken, beef patties and goat. The wide range gave me a nice palate for all the foods that were born from this culture.

Platanos/ Plantations

I even helped a few time in the kitchen to see the mechanics behind these dishes. A quote that refers to this is stated in Anzaldua’s piece, it states “There are more subtle ways that we internalize identification, especially in the forms of images and emotions. For me food and certain smells are tied to my identity, to my homeland” The cuisines she opened me up to help to further connect my roots to my culture and begin to understand that part of me.

My Great Grandmother in the middle.
Grandma to the right and Grandfather to the left

Growing in the culture my grandma would enlighten me with her stories. She told me of her move from Jamaica to the United States to obtain a better livelihood for her children. Jamaica might have beautiful parts but it also has poverty like any other country. When she moved over here with my six month old father she had to leave my aunt and uncle. They wanted to make a home for them to come to. During that time they maintain all aspects of their culture but they did have to make sacrifices in some areas. Such as when my grandfather opened up his own furniture upholstery shop. He had to turn off his accent almost like a switch to come across to others that didn’t understand it well. Also with my dad they didn’t want him to be scrutinized in school so they would tell him not to use his accent it in school. Through all the attempts to make them “american” they stood strong and carried on this culture so that my brothers and sisters and I could learn about that side of us. For that I am forever grateful to know my culture.    

I identify with my culture the most because I was raised to see it as a beautiful thing, another half of me. I was raised with some of their values, cuisines and stories embedded within me. I can not change that nor would I let anyone else do so. I cling to my identity because it represent me as a whole and I wouldn’t have it any other way. At the end of “How to Tame a Wild Tongue” Anzaldua ends it with “Stubborn, persevering, impenetrable as stone, yet possessing a malleability that renders us unbreakable, we, the mestizas and mestizos, will remain.”

A generation proud of their culture

As will my culture as we pass it down along every generation.