Jamaican Archives - The Race Card Project

You’re too pretty to be black.

September 28, 2024October 4, 2024 Black, Brandi N. Scarlett, First nations, Jamaican, Lansing, MI, pretty, stereotype

Brandi N. Scarlett,
Lansing, MI.

When people ask me what ethnicity I am, I get excited. I am so proud to be mixed race. My mother is white and First Nations, and my father is Jamaican. However, I always make sure to tell people no matter WHAT I am, I identify as being black. I interact with the world as a young black woman. That is how society treats me and I am not ashamed to embrace that.

I am a Black Dominican and Jamaican

August 7, 2024August 7, 2024 black Dominican, Brittany Baxter, first generation, fit in, FL, Florida gateway college, Jamaican, Lake City, Speak English, speank spanish

Brittany Baxter,
Lake City, FL

I am a first-generation American. I speak English and Spanish I have experienced racism from everyone simply because I don’t fit within the expectations that come with my appearance I was never black enough because i spoke another language and never considered Spanish enough because of my complexion. I have learned over time to love my mixture and find the beauty in it as it will always be a conversation starter. I will admit living in a world where we can accept a person that is born a human identifying as animals before accepting a person that doesn’t have you same complexion is a bit alarming and disheartening, we must do better as a people so we can stop all the division. We all share the same emotions and feelings of rejection so why don’t we start there.

I’m a bridge between two worlds.

August 9, 2022August 9, 2022 Asheville, bridge, check the box, Jamaican, Jazmin Whitmore, mixed, Native American, NC, two worlds, white

Jazmin Whitmore,
Asheville, NC.

I am the result of two worlds but I was only raised in one. My father was Jamaican and my mother was European/Native American mix. My mother raised me. Although it was not her intention she raised me to be “white”. I did not realize how devoid I was of my own heritage until I was in my late teens. I watched white movies. I had white friends. I listened to white music… I decided that I had neglected on half of me. So I set out on a journey to integrate myself. To learn about myself, all of me. After awhile I realized I did not have to choose a side because I was already both and neither. I was special, I was a bridge. I truly feel like mixed people are changing the world. They are living proof of boundaries eroding and stereotypes breaking down. We live in two worlds and offer two perspectives while most people only have one. This has been difficult for me and for many others but ultimately I feel like it is a blessing.

“You don’t look Jamaican or Cuban”

April 6, 2021March 14, 2022 Arab, assume, Cape Verdean, Cuban, FL, Jamaican, Miami, Michael A. Caldas, Middle-Eastern, police, Polynesian, terrorist, you don't look

Michael A. Caldas,
Miami, FL

I’m a Cuban and Jamaican descent mix. Most people when they look at me think that I am either Cape Verdean, Polynesian, or Middle Eastern. When I was at Tuskegee, on the road there, we stopped at gas station to make a rest-stop and when one of the older white women working the cashier, denied me service because they assumed I was Arab (Islamic) and thought I was a “terrorist”. I simply walked away because I was scared they gang up on me or get me killed by the police.

Don’t make assumptions. Just ask questions.

March 13, 2018March 13, 2018 Anglo, assume, assumptions, case, colorblind, difference, fear, hesitant, Jamaican, lil-white, mistake, NJ, Piscataway, questions, refernce, Stephanie Woodworth, talk, terrified, white

Stephanie Woodworth,
Piscataway, NJ.

My six words are in reference to how hesitant (in some cases, even terrified) people are to talk to each other when differences are involved. It’s as if even the most well-meaning people become paralyzed at the thought of acknowledging not only our differences, but our collective level of ignorance about one another. And so, in an effort to hold on to the appearance of what we hope will be seen as being open, accepting or even “colorblind” (yuck, my absolute least favorite), we make the bigger mistake of acting from assumptions. It’s as if we think asking someone about their life, their reality, will somehow be perceived as offensive or ignorant. I’ve personally never encountered this. I feel like it is my way of showing respect for experiences that are different than my own by not assuming I understand, but giving others the chance to represent their own experiences. I’ve honestly never had anyone take offense at this approach.
As for me, being the picture of a lily-white Anglo American (everyone assumes Irish, because of the red hair), it never fails to surprise people when they discover that, while I do have some Irish, Scottish and English on my mother’s side (although, not enough to identify which county or clan I hail from), I grew up surrounded by the culture, food and vernacular of my father’s family, who hail from Jamaica. The funny thing is that it is non-Jamaicans who have the hardest time believing that my dad is from Jamaica. Jamaicans I meet are at first surprised, but quickly accept it, since they know how diverse the islands can be (how many times have I looked into disbelieving faces when I mentioned the large Chinese population in Jamaica, who SOUND like Jamaicans). The sad thing is that I have always wanted a culture that I could connect to, and though I have tons to choose from in my background, the one that was so familiar in my childhood no longer feels open to me, now that most of my family is spread out, or gone. My father has always been so gung-ho about being American, that he doesn’t even identify as Jamaican. And it’s not a simple matter of joining a club. My face doesn’t exactly scream, “Jamaican”, in fact, it screams anything but. My white skin, red hair and freckles scream, “privileged Anglo white girl”, and that is partly true. But, how do I celebrate and participate in a culture that I bear no physical resemblance to and no longer have access to?

Your experience does not invalidate mine

January 19, 2018January 19, 2018 activism, black kids, Chevy Chase, Chinese, Elya, Ethiopian, experience, Jamaican, Jewish, MD, mixed, Norwegian, pass, privileged, Race, school, shelter, validate, white, white kids

Elya,
Chevy Chase, MD.

I grew up very privileged, and when I realized that I was being bullied by my white peers because of race, my parents decided that I would no longer be sheltered because of my race. I became very active in my student activism group and because I am mixed, I was never really accepted by the black kids. I don’t pass as white, so I was not accepted by the white kids. I have learned that self love is more important than trying to fit in with your perceived race. My friends are Jewish, Ethiopian, Chinese, Norwegian, Jamaican and so much more.

Race doesn’t matter; What’s inside does.

February 1, 2017February 1, 2017 "Am I not a man and a brother?", “Waiting for Anya”, 7th Grade Trailblazer, 99.5%, border, cameo, Charles Darwin, Chinese, filipino, High Tech Middle Media Arts, human, Inside, inside matters, intrusive, Jamaican, Jamaican and Chinese mix, judged, made-up, mix, nature, nazi, R.E.A.L. Talk, Race, race isn't real, same, species

R.E.A.L. Talk,
High Tech Middle Media Arts,
7th Grade Trailblazer

Lots of people have asked me if I was Filipino. I’ve always had the same reply, ”I am a Jamaican and Chinese mix”. After encountering people who asked me such questions, I wondered why it mattered what race I was. I have read books where characters were judged based on their race, such as the book, “Waiting for Anya”. In this book, the Nazi soldiers have come to Jo’s village to patrol the borders. Everyone thinks that these soldiers are bad and mean because the soldiers that came before had been rude and intrusive. They judged the soldiers based on their appearance instead of what’s on the inside. When people actually start to accept the soldiers they realize that not all Nazis are bad and that these Nazis certainly aren’t. Books like these teach kids that race doesn’t matter; what’s inside does. When will people start to accept that race doesn’t exist, humans only think it does?

Nature Didn’t Create Race: Humans Did.

Race isn’t real; we make it real. People should start to accept others for what’s on the inside and not the outside. According to a study by Charles Darwin, all humans are all the same species and are 99.5% the same. Among the family heirlooms that Charles Darwin inherited, symbolically speaking, was a china cameo depicting a black slave in chains, asking “Am I not a man and a brother?” This proves that people have falsely made race real. Why does this matter? Because, we the people need to understand that we are all equal no matter the race or religion. An opposing view may be that we aren’t equal and that only one race is superior. Again, Charles Darwin’s phrase that “all humans are all the same species and are 99.5% the same,” confirms my point. Does that other .5% really matter? In Theory, people should learn to welcome the inner-self instead of the outer-self, because nobody is more important than another.

Not just African-American, Jamaican-American.

July 5, 2016July 5, 2016 African American, Canton, Jamaican, Nicole H., OH

Nicole H.,
Canton, OH.

See My Face Guess My Race

December 17, 2014December 17, 2014 Black, CA, Creole, Duarte, East Indian, Ed Houlemarde, face, guess, Jamaican, Mexican, New Orleans, Race, Spanish

Ed Houlemarde,
Duarte, CA.

I am what is considered a Creole – depending on wher I am I can be lumped into that areas primary race. In school I did not belong to a “race” Because my skin is olive I had mostly minority friends or friends of color. Teaches and later co-workers thought I was Mexican, Black, East Indian, Jamaican, Spanish and my favorite Italian.Even today people will ask what nationality I am and when I say mixed – they assume one of my parents is black. When I say my parents are from New Orleans they say -Oh.

Not an Oreo cookie; an American.

November 30, 2013January 6, 2015 Brooklyn, Conrad Folkes, cookie, Jamaican, Jameriguese, NY, Oreo, PA, Portugal, Royersford

Conrad Folkes,
Royersford, PA.

I’m a first-generation American of Jamaican descent. I was born in Brooklyn, NY and moved to a suburb of Pittsburgh, PA when I was seven years old. I’ve always been an outgoing person. I make friends easily.

I’m black, but I don’t fit into black American culture all that nicely. I don’t speak like the majority of black Americans. I grew up as a racial minority in my town, but I didn’t act like it. I got involved in sports, high school musicals, I was an exchange student during my junior year of high school. I was even voted prom king after returning.

I’m black, and I don’t fit into white American culture all that nicely either. I dealt with racism in that small town as a child. There were countless arguments between my parents and those of my downstairs neighbor, Chris. They were always racially charged, but we just wanted to play and have sleepovers. I was called a “n*****,” by another child in elementary school while we were all playing on the playground.

I’m black, but most of my friends are white. We have more experiences in common, I find. My wife is white (from Portugal). My children are mixed (we say “Jameriguese”), and I’m black. I’m not an Oreo though; I’m not black, but white on the inside. I’m a black American of Jamaican descent and I try to love others as much as I love me and mine.

Most others love me back. I guess they can’t help it!

I am Afro-Caribbean, not African American.

August 7, 2013 African American, Afro-Caribbean, citizen, Jamaican, JAMERICAN, MA, Needham, Tracey Lincoln, us

Tracey Lincoln
Needham, MA

I am a proud Jamaican immigrant who was raised in that tiny island until I was eighteen years old. There, we have rampant classism, but racism – in a country that is over 90% black – is not something I had to deal with until I went to an elite small undergraduate college in the Berkshires. It was there that the racial heritage of this country, the history of low-expectations and the deeply-engrained stereotypes about what it meant to be a black woman in America were thrust on to me. In utter defiance of it all, whenever I was faced with prejudice I would utter my six little words, ” I am Afro-Caribbean, not African American”.

Almost fifteen years later, I am older and hopefully wiser now. I have been become a U.S. citizen and I see now that those six little words do something that I hate. They create an exception. In uttering those words over and over, I was almost inviting the people who harbored those feelings of hate to create a special category for me and for people of my culture they do not push them to use their interaction with me to change their mind and realize that their stereotypes aren’t true.

Now I’m uttering this, loud and proud – I am JAMERICAN. I was born in the tropics, but took advantage of the great opportunities afforded to me and was educated in of two of the finest institutions of learning in this country ultimately earning a PhD in Chemical Biology. I’ve lived here for my entire adulthood, and I have come to love this nation with all of its imperfections. There is so much that I have learned here that I couldn’t have in my native country and it has given me so much more than I have yet been able to repay.

So yes, I am of Caribbean ancestry and yes, I was raised without the scourge of racism but I am American, I am, in fact, an African American. I live here, I work here, I vote here. This country is mine, I can not hide behind my immigrant heritage.

My Daughter, I’m not her nanny

July 8, 2013 C. Fleming, Fiance, interracial marriage, Jamaican, nanny, New York, NY, you don't look

C. Fleming
New York, NY

I am Jamaican-American (black) and my Fiance is white. Somehow even in a place as mixed as NY people generally assume that I am the nanny since my daughter turned out to be very fair-skinned. I think the thing that saddened me the most is seeing the way that many black women respond when they see me and my baby girl out together. They generally look away or whisper amongst themselves. I’ve had some comment to me that, “Her daddy is white, huh?” and then have nothing more to say after that. White people think I’m the help, Black people think I’m a traitor.