There are plenty up the islands men who what they are really dying for is a quintessential, idealistic Trini girl that is not me. To most West Indian men, I am not some exceptional, exemplary black woman just because I have an accent that’s familiar like the taste of mangoes.
An Indian, a reds, and men will even allude to this and show scant passing interest in you at the same damn time. I often tussle with the passed-down expectations of West Indian womanhood and sometimes I do want to deliver: “Bring out de pot, I’ll cook yuh food” to quote Nadia Batson.
All these listings are not necessarily my father’s brand of West Indian masculinity either and are very generationally nuanced in certain ways.
I don’t know if men above a certain age would see themselves defined by all of these particular accolades.
Men from the ghetto and the country with razored edges and tender spots below the surface.
Every now and then, an article or two makes the rounds touting the pros of dating “a Caribbean man”, primarily for the elucidation of women outside of the region and our cultures.
There are West Indian men too, some of whose attributes these lists don’t (can’t?
) cover because they are outside the gaze of respectable black and brown men: guntas and badmen whose smiles are incredibly beautiful though rarely seen at times.
Plus, we like to try to not feed the machine (cough, egos). According to a Trini sistren I know, “Trini man is de ! I like the worn familiar feeling of an old and obscure-to-nearly-everyone-but-Trinbagonians Machel song. I like how they freely wine or stoically rather not. How I challenge their worldview as a queer black feminist.
” But unfortunately, guess who holds her heart right now? Or, watch them leave me, walking away with a headshake saying, “Nah.