I walk down the street.
“I like dah ras!”
“I love your hair.”
“Blah. Blah. Blah. So, why don’t you get your husband to help you with that hand? What?! No husband? I cyan believe nobody ain’t teef you yet!”
“Will you marry me?”
“I love your lipstick.”
“I love your dress!”
“You look very good today.”
“I love those shoes.”
“Girl, why don’t you have a man?”
All very charming. Very polite. In almost eighteen months of living here, I have not had one disrespectful incident walking the streets, and it has done wonders… sheer wonders for my sense of my own physical beauty.
It’s as though, I spent my whole life believing this lie; and now, I’ve been put in a place where men and women stare at me in the street. Both tell me I’m beautiful. At least once a day I hear it.
I think Trinidad is beautiful. I think it’s people are beautiful.