Kalina Collier, a Caribbean American JetBlue Airways stewardess, recently made false allegations that she was being held hostage in Jamaica. We often think of a white person when we think of foreigner privilege, but shocker Black people can also have foreigner privilege. And that includes us, Black women.
The UK is racist — argue with your mother, father, cat, dog or refrigerator about that. However, just because I experience discrimination and oppression here does not mean it will be the same everywhere. It sounds so simple, but yet for some, it’s not clicking. When I land in Jamaica, my experience is different from that in London. There are some similarities but there are privileges I have in Jamaica that I do not have in the UK. Whenever I set foot in Jamaica, I am aware of the privileges that I hold. As I type, the drama queen in me could throw up recalling the way some people’s eyes lit up or body language changed when they deciphered I was born in London.
Just to be clear, when I spent time as a child in Jamaica, the other kids did not treat me like the Queen of England. However, people associated me being born in the UK and having a red passport with whiteness, Britishness and wealth (*laughs in the reality of Black Brits*). A long time ago, I realized that I could be discriminated against in London (UK) whilst simultaneously being put on a pedestal in St Elizabeth (Jamaica).
People like Collier and myself sit in a unique space, even in the scope of foreigner privilege. When travelling to the Caribbean, we are technically going home whether we regard it as that or not. We have the Russian roulette experience of people seeing us as a Caribbean person or as a foreigner and treating us accordingly.
I’m treated in one of four ways by service providers when holidaying in Jamaica:
- The person knows I’m a foreigner but sees me as a Jamaican and for whatever reason, they do not care, no special treatment at all.
- The person picks up that I’m a foreigner and is going to treat me like one (i.e., the best thing since sliced bread.) There have been times that individuals providing a service have gotten a lot friendlier or even twang for me.
- The person doesn’t know that I’m a foreigner and I’m treated like any other Jamaican. Nothing special, typical service, the kind my local friends would get. At times, it might be piss poor because their fellow Jamaican does not deserve to be impressed.
- The person realizes that I’m a foreigner and quickly what was once $100 JMD goes to $250 JMD. (I once took a taxi from my Airbnb apartment to Mary Seacole Hall at UWI Mona; the first day my fare was $600 JMD and the next day after my driver found out that I was a foreigner, the fare was $700 JMD. I paid without a complaint.)
In summary, my Twitter friend, Annis R. Sands (an Afro-Caribbean media scholar and historian), worded the sentiments I’ve been trying to articulate for this article perfectly. She said, “navigating predominantly Black spaces that sharply maintain legacies of colonialism, your citizenship and/or ties to a powerful imperial regime grants you privileges over the local Black population”. This is a hard pill to swallow, to get better [acknowledge our privilege] we need to take our medication.
Edited By Jarrell Fenton
