Just before I left for Jamaica, my sister told me that upon telling an acquaintance of hers that I was moving to Jamaica, he said “Why is she going there? She’s tall and blond?” These words resonate with me everyday now, although I scoffed at them at the time. There is no way to blend in here for white people. Some are more noticeable than others, but being tall and blond is a magnet, as a fellow volunteer put it. I’m not sure if this is something I will become accustomed to. Never have I been more aware of the luxuries of blending in and the safety of having one’s guard down that I could enjoy in Canada. Never have I been more aware of having the luxury of zoning out and of tuning out one’s fellows when in the public realm.

As a rule, I prefer to blend in and observe and politely decline the spotlight. I like to watch and tell stories- being a reporter is just about perfect for me as a profession. Here? Out of the question. I hear “hey whitey” a few times every time I am out. People stare with various expressions: WTF (white skin is associated with wealthiness here, so they wonder why a white girl would be walking, especially alone, rather than driving); curiosity (not too many white people here); annoyance (?); downright hostility (complex reasons, I presume?); amusement (mostly when I run) and something approaching just a genuine smile. That’s my favourite. Of course, I am aware that right now my approach to other people in public is verging on paranoia as I become more comfortable, but they do stare, make no mistake. In any case, the other volunteers say I will get used to it and that I need to get a thicker skin. I hope the former is true and I’m not sure I can achieve the latter. My whole life, I’ve been told this and that I’m too sensitive. For the most part, it serves me well, here, I will see how it works out for me.

PS- pictures from Treasure Beach to come tomorrow- stay tuned!