Day 78: Milk of Jamnesia
The past few days have been really hard. I haven't known what to say, but I feel a need to say something. We live in a world, where human life seems to be secondary to possessions. Black lives are less important than businesses, than materials things, and less than inanimate objects, in the eyes of so many. I don't know how all of you are feeling right now, but my heart hurts.
Hello, thirsty readers. You may have noticed a very sudden change in my tone over the past couple days. I've been really struggling to put content out lately. Last night, I watched as protesters were shot with rubber bullets, while they had their hands in the air. This is not okay, and this is too much. They ask for "peaceful protests," but then the police incite the violence. We even have leadership at the top, injuring innocents, just so he can have a photo opportunity. I need an escape, and I'm sure you do as well.
I went back and re-read some of the material I wrote earlier in the pandemic. Things felt different then. Things felt hopeful. On Day 7, I shared my memory of Dub Club, in Kingston. I was introduced to another place I love during that trip, and I go there in my mind when things start to feel hopeless. It's a place called Jamnesia.
Sitting right on the edge of Kingston, Jamnesia feels like a magical wonderland. My friend took me there, so I could experience a different side of the beach in Jamaica, far from the corporate resorts and tourists drinking sugar-laded slushies. To put it simply, Jamnesia is a surf hostel. They have rooms, where you can stay, and they give surf lessons. It has this commune-feel, with bands playing at night. The place just felt like the physical embodiment of love.
I brought this up, because I feel like we could all use a bit of love right now. This country has treated black citizens like they are second-class citizens for far too long, yet some people are surprised by the abundance of protests happening. "Why can't it be peaceful," they all ask? Everyone tried that method, and nobody listened. You cried when a football player took a knee during the national anthem. If you ask me, that was about as peaceful and respectful as you could possibly protest. Even now, there is a large segment of the public who want to criticize the protesters in this country, asking them to protest differently. If it doesn't make you uncomfortable, then it's not going to work. You're the ones who showed them this. That's the point!
I want to feel love, and I want to take you all there with me. I want everyone to be able feel that warm embrace I felt in Jamnesia, a place where the outside world melted away. That's the dream I have right now. Can we all live with the notion of one love? That might require you to see us all as one equal species regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation. Why is that such a hard concept? You might need a drink after all this.
Milk of Jamnesia
1oz Overproof Jamaican Rum
.5oz Coruba Dark Rum
1oz Mango Nectar
1oz Orange Juice
1oz Coconut Cream
(.5oz Coffee Liqueur)
Footed Tulip, or Large Collins Glass
Whip shake all ingredients, except coffee liqueur, and pour unstrained.
Top with crushed ice.
Float coffee liqueur on top.
Garnish with banana leaf and flower.
Black lives matter, so please don't try and tell me "all lives matter." This is not up for debate! All lives can not matter, if black lives don't! Black lives are still lives, and those lives are not to be disposable at the discretion of law enforcement. The next time you want to rant about your precious rights, stop and think about those who don't share those same rights simply because of the skin they were born with. You may have been afraid to walk down the street alone at night, but I'll bet it wasn't because of the color of your skin. I'll bet, the last time you were pulled over, you weren't afraid the police officer was doing to kill you. Maybe getting that haircut wasn't so important after all Karen. Thank you for sticking with me this long. I hope there's a silver lining soon. Stay angry, and keep shaking.