I’m drinking rum and redbull, an yuh see dat mi ‘eart full
-Beanie Man, from his ubiquitous 2010 smash hit, creatively titled “Rum and Red Bull”
If you had come looking for me at Bumper’s Reggae Lawn last night, this is what I would have told you: You can’t miss us. Trust me. You’ll just know. Wingea and the White Gyaal.
My Favorite Yout outdid himself last night, resplendent in white jeans, Versace t shirt, sequined vest, and keffiyah tied around his head. A Jamaican Captain Jack Sparrow. Dancehall Pirate of the Caribbean. Really amazing, even by Jamaican sartorial standards. He appointed himself my body guard early in the evening, and I’m sure we made quite a pair: short, ‘thick’, brown Miss Taylor in an african print mini dress and leggings, and Steaka towering above me in spangles and headdress. Like I said, you couldn’t miss us if you tried.
This is how I know I will always be ok in Claremont: Even when at the dancehall, I am STILL “Miss Taylor.” I had an AMAZING time, and again, I can’t take the credit for it. Steaka, his girlfriend, her friends, the boys of Coultart Grove- everyone took it upon themselves to make sure I was able to enjoy my first real dancehall party on MY terms. One of the DJ’s kept coming over to talk to me, and someone (Steaka, or Max, or Omar) would immediately put themselves between me and the new guy.
Jamaican dancehall music is aggressively heterosexual, and the dancing that accompanies it is no less so. I love to get down, but I cannot and will not participate in what is commonly known as “daggering”. Through out the night, men would offer to let me ‘wine up pon dem”. Generous, right?
Wayyyy back last summer, at the Nine Night we held uppa mi yard after Mr Cotton passed, Steaka and crew tried to pull the same crap with me. I firmly and politely explained that There Was No Way In Hell I would let them touch me Like That. Just had to tell them once. Months and months ago. So when other men even joked about me ‘a whine wi dem’, there was Steaka to send them packing with ” NUH MAN, Shi NUH DO THAT!”
Words cannot come close to expressing how everyone made me feel so welcome and cared for. Every five minutes, a hand would reach across to grab mine and ask “Taylor, yuh alright, yuh having a good time?”
Parties here go all night long, and I came home as a silvery morning broke over Coultart Grove, so I am more sleep- deprived than hungover. It’s okay, though: we have hot water now at my house, so I’m going to take long shower and try to nap. Thank goodness Easter comes but once a year.
