One of the things I've been trying to come to terms with in Trinidad again is the men. After a few years of silent appreciation (unless I made a trip to Peckham or Brixton markets where the population of Caribbean men was very present and reassuringly vocal) I'm having to re-learn how to deal with the constant commentary.
The fact that every man from the crack pipe smoking vagrants in front of the bank in Port of Spain, to the coconut vendor to the well suited bank worker thinks he can address me in the following ways:
"Psst"
"Darkie"
"Rassie"
and then proceed to make sundry comments, depending on what I'm wearing, or if they have a penchant for dreads, but usually the comments take the predictable lines of, I could play in those locks all day, family, or your bamsee looking real nice in them pants, etc etc.
Usually I keep my head straight, trying not to wince or worse turn around and slap the commentator.
The problem is of course, that there are women who respond to these ludicrous summons, out of habit or because they just don't have the self-confidence to do anything else but feel flattered if a man pays them the same compliment he's paid to every single women who's gone past him for the day.
I wonder what the point of it is. Why do men think that we need their reassurance? Why do they think that we want to know what base thoughts they are thinking. And really now, is that supposed to make me interested in you. Am I supposed to drop everything I'm doing to stop and have a really interesting and enlightening conversation with you?
Now the truth is, Trinidad is hot woman capital. I know this because I always feel inadequate in the face of all these annoyingly stunning of all shapes and shades. So I guess the drive by 'suitings' is the Trini man's primitive version of speed dating.
The general attitude in the Caribbean is that this is just machoman-ism at it's most harmless. We women have to just put up with it. It's just some harmless fun. The other day when I confronted a suitor by asking him what else he really had to offer me but his unclean teeth, he got very upset and defensive as if I was the one who had infringed on his rights to walk down the street without being harassed. He just couldn't understand why I wouldn't want someone, just some arbitrary man on the road side that he wouldn't mind 'resting it' on me. But with rapes so high, incest and child abuse and domestic violence, suiting takes on a very sinister kind of tone. We Caribbean women must deal with being objects for a whole society of men and not ever dare speak out against them.
In the end I gave up, he couldn't justify his behaviour and he was also too big for me to clout so I moved on, seething.
It can't be a healthy habit. It's not cute and most of the time it's not even funny, witty or well-meaning. It's not about appreciating the beauty of the women of this country, but a really subtle attempt at undermining our independence and our sense of who we are.