goodnight, dear harry.
I needed to take a long moment (and cry a few tears) upon hearing of Harry Belafonte’s passing today. Because while I am under no delusion that our elders will live forever, when some leave us, the hurt is still visceral. A native son of my beloved island of Jamaica, he embodied “we over me” while breaking every barrier put before him, consciously blending his art with fierce activism. Witnessing that moved me and influenced my life in a profound way.
My loved ones may say that Harry was also my ultimate dream guy (if you go to our website you’ll even find a comical vintage post about my online dating shenanigans using him as my litmus test), and when I turned 40, my digital invitations declared the day, with Harry joyfully singing and steel drums playing, all about “Bringing Belafonte to Brentwood”, encouraging everyone to dig into the love for my island, Harry’s island. I mean, it’s a well known fact that I can’t even hear “Island in the Sun” or “Jamaica Farewell” without being reduced to a puddle.
When I leave my island, I leave a specific version of myself there that comes alive, and that always makes me somewhat sad. I once had a client imply that my trips home to Jamaica were perhaps excessive. I quickly shut it down. That is my home, and always will be, no matter where I temporarily reside. Jamaica informs everything about me- from my immigrant work ethic, to the bright floral dresses I love to wear. And as a people, we are always so proud of our native sons, and I look at ancestors like Harry who have come through the diaspora, and wonder- am I doing enough with my life and opportunities.
What a gift to be alive in his lifetime. His lessons and examples were clear- be strong, but always elegant. Be unflappable, and live a life filled with dignity and grace. Have a moral compass. Make sure your values are intact. Refuse to be reduced to others’ stereotypes. Have a backbone. Be courageous. Stand up for what is right. Stand up for yourself. And most importantly, never ever forget your roots.
Goodnight Mr Belafonte, and thank you for all the life lessons. Your island girl.
