We have never been able to hold a proper debate about Black genetics because the subject was hijacked by mad White nationalists to promote their ideas of how `inferior' Black people are - `great bodies but small minds'. On the other hand, it is also used by Black nationalists to argue the case for supposed Black genetic superiority.
The news media showed pictures of the immediate family and family friends. What I found amazing is that it appears that only light-skinned Cubans are trying to escape from their homeland. I saw the Cuban basketball team in the late Olympics. I have also seen pictures of Cubans in a television special one by Harry Belafonte. What I saw were dark-skinned Cubans having the time of their lives. It made me wonder, in light of what I have been told by African people living in Florida, that the light-skinned Cubans are more racist that some southerners. What is really going on in Cuba, and what is this Elian Gonzales issue about? The more I got into thinking this way, the more questions were raised. Why are most of the people trying to escape from Cuba light-skinned? Why are the majority of the athletics in the Olympics dark-skinned? The women's basketball team and the volleyballs teams were the bomb. They were some big, pretty sisters. I also thought of the Haitians. Why are Haitians sent back to Haiti and Cubans allowed to stay in America? They are both supposedly oppressed people. The Haitians are dark and the Cubans, who are trying to escape, light. Is there something more than meets the eye?
In 1984, the association opened an expanded Historical Museum at the Miami-Dade Cultural Center in downtown Miami. This 40,000-square-foot facility includes a permanent exhibition that traces the history of South Florida and the Caribbean, a temporary exhibition gallery that features several new exhibitions each year, a theater and classroom area for variety of educational programs, and storage areas for the museum's extensive collections of artifacts and archival materials, including books, manuscripts, maps and more than one million photographs related to the region. In recent year, the Historical Museum has directed increasing attention to Miami's role as a gateway of the Americas. To explore Miami's multifaceted connections with the Caribbean and Latin America, a new program series, Miami: The Gateway City, was introduced in Spring 1999. The objective of the 12-month series is to use the museum as a central forum for public dialogue about current issues facing Miami and as a space for related artistic presentations.
It is not surprising that the Caribbean woman pushes her daughter toward higher education, for she sees education as the greatest tool for social mobility. Education becomes more than just a means of expanding one's realm; it is seen as an armor of protection against hostile forces, an opportunity to be successful so that no one can "tek step wid yuh." Traditionally, women have been the custodians of culture. The Caribbean woman must continuously face this question: "How can I keep the culture intact, maintain our song and dance in these changing times, this electronic age of computer, when our children are struggling against the reins of our value system and often we are so perplexed, not knowing what to do? This, then, is the most valuable lesson the Caribbean mother passes on to her daughter: how to be firm in the midst of society's pressures and remain her individual self and nurture her talents and resources to love her mate and nurture her children, even while she pursues her own dreams. The songs and dance continue.
The genesis of these carnivals carries the intent of resisting on some level, by Caribbean migrants, the otherwise alienating conditions of life in migration, to "carnivalise" these landscapes with some of the joy and space commensurate with Caribbean carnival. Indeed, Caribbean intellectual contributions have had successful impact on the development of U.S., European and African thought. Still, the Caribbean in most imaginings, and in particular to those who do not know it well, is the place of "sun and fun," a vacation land devoid of serious engagement with the world. Caribbean carnival then is the climax of all those "sun and fun" constructions. Yet, there is a history and politics to carnival - a "carnival of resistance" beyond the outer face of "carnival of tourism" - that demands exposure.
These articles mostly concerned [Castro]'s cracking down on terrorism and crime committed against tourists in Cuba. In reaction to incidents of hotel bombings, and in one case, the murder of an Italian tourist, Castro's government had passed a series of strict new laws to deter crimes that would further injure the country's leading source of foreign currency - tourism. One evening in Santago de Cuba, I was discussing the race issue with a few Cuban friends, among whom was a loyal Castro supporter who had fought for four years in Angola with the Cuban army. He argued that what was happening in his country wasn't so much a problem of racism as it was an honest attempt on Castro's part to protect the country's main source of revenue, tourism, upon which the U.S. embargo had made Cuba dependent. Although the once-again blatant debasing of my friend's civil rights incensed me, I did understand his point. Most of the tourists now coming to Cuba are from predominately white European countries, or they are upper-class whites from Latin America. Most of the tourists now coming to Cuba are from predominately white European countries, or they are upper-class whites from Latin America. Most of these white tourists come to Cuba with racism ingrained in them from their own cultures. In fact, it is unofficially acknowledged that a large percentage of the foreign currency in Cuba comes from sex tourism, which generally comprises white men drawn to Cuba by the lure of "exotic" mulatto women.
It ran for more than six years and playing one of [Desmond]'s barbershop cronies was a highlight of [Ram John Holder]'s long career. "It only had half of the audience of Desmond's, but it had much bigger audiences than the shows they replaced it with." In it, the colourful and exuberant traditions of Trinidad's Carnival provide the setting for a stage event which transforms Handel's Messiah into an musical combining song, dance and spectacle with the spirit of Caribbean storytelling.
"I wanted to write a play that celebrated the journey of our parents," explains [Kwame Kwei-Armah]. "A lot of the previous plays tell us the old, grey story about `No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish,' but that isn't very entertaining. "Growing up, I had a big nose but when Afrocentricty came in the '80s suddenly I had an African nose," recalls Kwame. "[Chris Monks] is White and together we have a play that is accessible to all communities," says Kwame. "It's not just about Black issues, it deals with universal themes like love, feeling inadequate and beauty."
Friday, Oct. 29 was Kweyol Day, a celebration of island identity and culture. While the official language of the Commonwealth of Dominica is English, 80 percent of the population speak Kweyol, a legacy of early French settlement. Kweyol language and folk culture, after being sidelined, dismissed or denigrated during the British colonial period, has played an important role in forging the identity of independent Dominica since 1978. People's irritation with a late start was quickly dissolved. After the Stars, the Vodou rhythms of Haiti's seminal roots music band Boukman Eksperyans reverberated through Festival City. Named after the Vodou priest who presided over the ceremony that ignited Haiti's slave rebellion, Boukman Eksperyans has been at the forefront of taking the Vodou beat into the arena of world music. Tabou Combo, the most famous and long-lived Haitian Konpa band, seemed reluctant to leave the stage, but from 5 a.m., Festival City was overrun by WCK, [Dominica]'s marathon bouyon band, with whom I was still chipping at breakfast time. Not even a large pot of extra-strong Dominican coffee could revive me, and I retired battered and rambling in Kweyol, to recover in Trinidad.
Occasionally, a rare talent emerges, such as Lauryn Hill or Maxwell, whereas previously the talent came in hordes. Look at the way Lauryn Hill has gone back to Bob Marley and Stevie Wonder for inspiration and technique. She's still a rap artist but here is a woman who has learnt her trade. It's a question of feeling basically unsafe around a generation that has no respect for its elders.
