Testosterone Not Needed

As a woman who grew up in a matriarchal family I’ve always wholeheartedly believed that my gender didn’t limit me in anyway. I can’t remember ever saying something like “I can’t do that or be that because I’m a girl”, though I can’t say the same for never saying I wish I was a boy. I mean come on, no periods, instantly the most ‘dominant’ in society (don’t kill me for this one, it’s simply a generalization), pee standing up, those fun phallic things, it’s all good. However, while all those things are great at the end of the day I’d rather be a girl and I’m proud as fuck to be one. The point of my previous babbling is that sometimes I think women short change themselves without knowing. They don’t truly believe that they are equal to men, and that they’re gender limits them. I read somewhere once, I’m paraphrasing here, that equality isn’t about equal results but about equal opportunities and now I can’t speak for everyone else but that is literally all I want as a woman and a feminist. What led me to these kinds of thoughts at 12:02 am was myself, my grandma and a female friend moving some furniture around my house. Now it may not seem like much but I’m a short stack of pancakes, I’m not very fit and some pieces were really heavy but what drove me crazy was that right off the bat I unknowingly though “Oh, I’ll just wait till my step-dad gets here and he’ll move it around.” When I realized what I was thinking I got really upset at myself because I realized that I was underestimating my own power without even trying or even acknowledging that I even could. I hauled ass and started moving shit myself and although right now my muscles ache, my right knee is creaking and I might have possibly thrown my back out I feel so powerful and ridiculously proud of myself for accomplishing such a small feat. It made me feel good about myself and it made me proud as a woman. Now I’m not trying to say that men are useless or anything negative, but there’s somethings special about being able to do things that were once considered ‘male tasks’ and feeling powerful in your own skin knowing that you did it.

Powerful Woman in Red


Dear Uptown Jamaica

Under the Saltire Flag

This blog will not be accusing you of anything…not really. In fact, I’m writing this as one of you. Yes my dears, were Jinx to condemn me to go back to where I came from, I would end up –– well, not exactly in the heart of UPT (for that is Norbrook or Jackshill) — but at least in one of its other vital organs. Maybe its lungs. You see, I was born and grew up in Hope Pastures.


Aah – Uptown Jamaica. A we say Campion, immaculate, Ardenne, Andrews, Wolmers. A we say Sunday Brunch at Terra Nova or Strawberry Hill. A we say Liguanea Club; a we say lunch at Pegasus, dinner at Normas on the Terrace. A we say, ‘Mummy, Daddy? Can come pick we up?’

To come from Uptown Jamaica…that isn’t much to be proud of. Especially not now. Especially not this week. It has been…

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