Those Jamaican songs are part of cross-border storytelling among youths, marginalised

Dear Editor,

I wish to respond to a letter in the December 6th, 2018 edition of Stabroek News and entitled `Youth development being stymied by vulgar Jamaican ‘songs’’.

There are a couple of things to be unpacked in this letter.

Firstly, it must be acknowledged that some songs emanating from Jamaican culture, and elsewhere, drive and normalize problematically sexist, destructive hypermasculine and discriminatory homophobic narratives. But at the same time, to create a broad brush for -”Jamaican songs” is un-Caribbean and culturally isolationist.

Secondly, the letter misses a key component of cross-cultural exchange and an important lesson for national development on the alignment of values among working class people, and that is that within Caribbean sociopolitical and socioeconomic systems, social exclusion creates alliances. As a yute (intentionally spelt) grounded in Leopold Street where my family still resides, I write these words from my own observations.

The cultural spaces where a particular brand of Jamaican dancehall becomes hyped are mostly, but not limited to, urban spaces characterised by limited economic opportunity, community stigmatization, political exploitation, intergenerational poverty, and a greater presence of the parallel economy which creates employment for youth through illegitimate means. We must examine how urban pockets of poverty come to be positioned just on the outskirts of zones with bustling economic activity, or high real estate value.

Furthermore, within the context of unpacking exclusion and people’s sense of survival, we come to find a gendered dynamic worthy of interrogation. This is where notions of masculinity or manhood and femininity or womanhood become shaped by a culture of survival. In the advancement of this survival, some men negotiate their economic prosperity as linked to a culture of bravado, guns and gangs.

In a system characterized by unequal power relations between the sexes, some women who navigate poverty understand that men come not only with a socialised insatiable habit for sexual satisfaction but also with greater access to finances than their women counterparts. This is the politics of neighbourhood, address and urban poor survival.

The creation of alliances along similar values and lived experiences isn’t uncommon among marginalised groups, especially those groups conscious of their marginalisation. In the global political economy, for example, developing nations have banded together advancing a culture of south-south relations based on their understanding that they outweigh developed countries in global representation within multilateral institutions if not in real economic power at the global level.

As we come to understand the system of exclusion through the music, we must appreciate, interrogate and infiltrate these systems to understand how they function and then give remedy wherever necessary rather than superficially rejecting them simply because they do not align with our own values. It is value-conflicts which create exclusion in the first place. Those who have power and influence, in this instance, must learn how to share it and learn how to amplify the voices of the powerless.

If we want to engage in a meaningful discourse on youth development, we must look towards the systems which create that underdevelopment rather than challenge the ways young people, across geographies, come to tell their stories and connect with similar stories. Those songs are part of that cross-border storytelling. Listen!

Yours faithfully, Derwayne Wills