Recapping My Time on the Valiant Lady with Atlantis Events

It has been a while since I’ve done one of these blog posts. Much of that is due, in large part, to comfort and familiarity. I’ve just gotten used to and more acclimated to sharing things via Facebook and Instagram – but this post isn’t conducive to either.

Anyway, many have asked me about the cruise my “roommate” and I took in mid-March. The experience was an Atlantis Events charter with Virgin Voyages. The purpose of the trip was to celebrate/recognize us both turning 45 this year. And, for the most part, it was amazing.

We ported out of San Juan, Puerto Rico – which was my first time visiting there as well. And we stopped in Aruba, Curaçao, Martinique, and St. Kitts.

There was another reason for the trip, beyond it being our birthdays. I have only ever travelled out of the United States once in my life and that was for our honeymoon to the Bahamas. My desire is to do more international travel and experience other cultures outside of the continental United States. This trip provided that opportunity.

Here are a few highlights. 

Aruba

We arrived in Aruba on March 18 at about 8 a.m. local time. What we did not know was that it was their national day also known as Flag Day. We booked a late afternoon excursion – a beach bar hop – which allowed us the opportunity to mix and mingle with locals celebrating their national holiday. We were able to experience the antique car show that happens during the holiday, as well as a motorcycle ride on the way to our stops.

The visit and the experience made an unexpected impression that set the tone for the rest of the vacation. I did not know, at the time, that this stop would be the one to stick to me more than any of the other stops.

Curaçao

The next day, we stopped in Curaçao. I signed us up for a tour of the island’s capital. Now, let me be clear, I had no idea what we were signing up for. The Taste of Curaçao had me under the impression that the excursion would be something more along the lines of a street festival with food and vendors and such. No, this was a literal historical tour around the capital city. Don’t get me wrong, it was informative and enlightening, and I learned a lot about the island, its history, and its people.

We did get the chance to visit their distillery where we had a chance to taste some Curaçao liqueur and we had lunch at a local restaurant. THE FOOD WAS GOOD YA’LL and authentic.

It was a beautiful day and our guide, whom we were instructed to call Mama, was a joy. She also dropped several pearls of wisdom during the excursion. One that stood out to me (that I was sure to jot down in the moment) was, “Be grateful!” And it was a word I needed to hear in the moment. I was in a mood at the start of the excursion — I won’t get into the reasons why — but those words really spoke to me and pulled me out of the funk. It was clear to me that God was speaking in that moment. #Godknows

Martinique 

We had some of the best food during the weeklong trip during this stop.

For this stop, I booked a Catamaran boat ride. It was my “roommate’s” official birthday. Neither of us had ever had an experience like this. The excursion guides took us to a specific area in South Martinique for snorkeling. We would have lunch on the boat and then move to another area known for sea turtle spotting before returning to the cruise ship. What I did not anticipate was his resistance to getting in the water. But, we had a good time, nonetheless.

While others on the excursion enjoyed snorkeling, we stayed on the boat and enjoyed our guides who are natives to Martinique. One of the crew members prepared the lunch — grilled chicken, steamed fish steaks, rice with bananas and avocado, a cabbage and cantaloupe and tomatoes salad, fresh fruit, and bread cake. The food was amazing. Another crew member made sure our cups stayed full. He also managed the music on the boat. Ya’ll, they played everything from Donna Summers and Whitney Houston, to Luther Vandross, Earth Wiind & Fire, to Anita Ward and other great classics. This experience was a needed reprieve from what we were getting on the cruise ship during the themed parties (which was 90% techno). I even got to see a sea turtle – even though it wasn’t that up close.

We left that experience satisfied!

St Kitts

I was more conscious of my Blackness during this trip than I have been in quite some time. Being in the “minority,” if you will, is not something foreign to me. But it has been quite some time since my “racial” identity was as obvious to me as it was on this trip. St. Kitts is part of the reason why.

When we arrived, we decided to check out the shops and vendors that occupied the port. Almost immediately, we were met with locals offering all sorts of tours around the island. It was slightly overwhelming, at first. We had not experienced such intensity on the other islands and during the other stops.

But it did not take me long to adjust. I realized that many of them make their living via tourism. Their hustle was/is their way of life. The experience left me with so many questions. I wondered about their way of life, their families, and their everyday experiences. I immediately thought about my own privilege, which led me to think about the many times I have heard others talk about how blessed they are as if their privileges made them more blessed than my diasporic sibling of St. Kitts. Am I more blessed because my life isn’t like theirs? Are any of us? And what does it mean to suggest because I live a privileged life that it somehow means, or suggests, I am blessed and they aren’t?

I couldn’t help but see the many stark differences and realities. I couldn’t help but consider how I was there to consume their culture and then leave. This became even more prevalent for me during our excursion – which was a cooking class led by one of the local restaurateurs who is a native of Curaçao.

The cooking class was a great time, however — of course — and the food was amazing. I also learned that “jerk” is not a seasoning, its a technique! But the experience with the locals at the port has stuck to me.

What a gift it was to have this opportunity.

Was it perfect? Not in the least. I have some critiques overall, inspired by some of the things I have already mentioned (music during the many theme parties — which is an Atlantis Events issue), as well as difficulties due to my dietary restrictions at most of the “specialty” restaurants (they placed a lot of emphasis on food allergies, but had never heard of digestive restrictions like diverticulosis, etc. — which was a Virgin Voyages issue).

With that said, I am open to doing another Atlantis Events cruise AND another cruise with Virgin Voyages.

I’m just talking out loud.

Recently the question was asked of me, “do you have any regrets?” Immediately, I said no. Some years ago, I taught myself to not have regrets. I became more interested in Sankofa and felt it’s concepts were more beneficial for my life than regrets. But is any of that viable?

I've spent a large portion of my life making intentional choices, hoping and believing those choices would have certain outcomes. In some instances, I’ve diminished myself, my light and my presence in the midst of others. Part of it is due to my own insecurities. Oftentimes, I’ve shrunk myself in hopes of being accepted and respected, chosen even. 

I’m just talking out loud. 

More times than not, I’ve still found myself abandoned, heartbroken, disappointed, and afraid. I’ve spent a lifetime catering to the wants, needs, desires, uncertainties, insecurities, and fears of others. And I’m not alone. So many of us have done the same. 

I want to be free. Free from the fear. Free from the anxiety. Free from the trauma. Free from the limits. Free from struggle. Free from uncertainty. Free from doubt, scars, frustration, and insecurity. Freedom has become my goal. 

I’m just talking out loud. 

This is my season of Sankofa. It began the day my father died. Do I have any regrets? No. I choose to not have them. But I am looking back, I am thinking back, and considering what has been for the sake of where I’m headed. I am determined to fetch what’s was almost left behind. I’m determined to go back and get what was lost. 

Moving forward, I am reminded, this has to be for me and no one else. As of late, I’ve found myself asking myself, “what is the point of any of this? What has been the point of any of this?!” I think I have an idea of what the answer is…maybe not. But what I do realize is this, it all should have been for and about me. It will be, to the best of my ability, moving forward. 

Pay me no mind. I’m just talking out loud.

We Are Not A More Perfect Union...

“To heal, we must remember.”

These were the words spoken by Joseph R. Biden on the eve of his inauguration. 

With his wife, Dr. Jill Biden; then, vice president-elect Kamala Harris; and her husband, Doug Emhoff, at his side, he gave these remarks during the national COVID-19 memorial at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. The next morning, he was officially sworn in as the 46th president of these United States at the U.S. Capitol.

Since obtaining the democratic nomination for the presidency, Biden has been described as the only candidate equipped to lead us in this time of loss and tragedy. Due to the loss of his first wife and daughter in a tragic car accident 40-plus years ago, as well as the loss of his beloved son, Beau, to cancer in 2015, Biden’s career, writers have suggested,  has been defined by tragedy.

“To heal, we must remember.”

Hearing President-elect Biden utter these words, I was captured. I, along with many across this globe, have been impacted closely by the coronavirus. For nearly a month, one of my beloved aunts fought for her life in a Detroit hospital after contracting the virus. She eventually died on Palm Sunday. To witness the soon-to-be leader of the free world, take a moment to remember those we have loss – at that point just a little over 400,000 people – I felt seen. The moment felt like a long-awaited acknowledgment of the pain this virus has enacted on us and others that make up the number of loved ones in mourning.

Those words were also calculated.

Two weeks prior, a group of Trump supporters and so-called American patriots stormed the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, Jan. 6, 2021, to stop the certification of Biden and Harris’ election. They were attempting to “take their country back.” As many of us watched from our phones, computers, and flat screens, some were astonished, amazed, dumbfounded even, by what was happening. “This is not America,” some pundits uttered sincerely as they verbally reprimanded the Capitol attackers. They described the moment as unreal. How could this be happening in our country at this time.

But as Cori Bush, the newly elected democratic representative from Missouri in the House of Representatives wrote in the Washington Post, beloveds, this is America; especially the America that many of us know.

Now, I won’t waste your time reiterating what so many others, especially the likes of poet laureate Amanda Gorman, have already eloquently said and written about the current state of our democracy.

But I will say something about this concept of healing, what we should take away from the practice of reflecting and/or remembering, and how important truth telling is in the process. Because, let’s be honest, words have meaning – words matter. And, far too often, we misuse words and their intent, which gets us all in a lot of trouble – or in situations that were never intended in the first place.

“To heal, we must remember.”

Last summer I applied and enrolled in Columbia Theological Seminary’s Doctor of Ministry program. Weeks earlier, my dear brother and pastor, Pierre D. Cox, shared with me his desire for me to carry on his ministry following his death. He had been in a three-year battle with colorectal cancer. His desire was that when he died, House of Mercy Everlasting would continue on after him. Immediately, I searched for resources to help me in the process of leading a ministry in mourning. Realizing the lack of extensive research, I decided to focus my DMin on developing a such a resource future leaders.

In my quest, I have spent a lot of time with Joshua, the successor of Moses. In the Biblical text, we are informed that Moses, under the guidance of the Lord, selected Joshua as his successor well before he died. When Moses eventually died, the people wept for 30 days. Before they were led out of the wilderness and into their next, they took some time to pause.

This idea that the people took time to mourn is intriguing to me. Not because the concept of pausing while mourning is foreign to me. No. I am intrigued because the people actually did it and because the text actually records that it happened. The fact that the people took time to weep before moving on speaks to how important it is to pause, while also sheds a light on, to me, how bad we as a society are in the practice.

I mean, we have heard so much about it being time to unite, to get beyond our differences, to come together, and heal. What if that is the wrong narrative; the wrong strategy? What would happen if in our remembering, we actively and intentionally paused a moment before moving on? What if what we need to do first, in order to unify, is to pause and actually reflect? And while we are reflecting, maybe it is time to really start telling the truth about, well, everything?!

Healing is defined as the process of making or becoming sound or healthy again.

Considering this definition, and how the word has been used the past few weeks at least, it is safe to say there is a desire to obtain what once was – to get back. But to suggest we need to heal, or get back healthy again, that would mean that we are getting back to something we had already achieved.

When have we ever been healthy?

For nearly the past 15 or so years, we have heard the political rhetoric, “We are now more divided than ever.” I especially remember hearing such being declared on the night Barack Obama became the 44th president. Back then, I must admit, I believed it. I, along with countless others, believed the rhetoric. While we were electing our first ever Black president, I knew everyone wasn’t excited. But we were progressing, right? It was such a momentous occasion that I allowed myself to overlook some of the tactics used to discredit then Senator Obama and his affiliations. (Some of those same tactics we saw resurface during the runoff election between Raphael Warnock and Kelley Loeffler). But, the writer in me should have known better. Those who control the narrative control history.

America has never been healthy. It’s very founding is rooted in oppression and exploitation. And the systems that govern us today are still rooted in the practice of moving the goal post to benefit those who have access over those who do not.

What do we do with any and all of that? How are we to heal? What does healing even look like if, what we claim we are seeking to gain is more ideological than practical and never truly existed in the first place? How do we become a more perfect union? What was even the intent or goal of a more perfect union in the first place?

In her book, “Occupied with Nonviolence: A Palestinian Woman Speaks,” Jean Zaru states that we are to find our strength in our storytelling. We are to tell our stories. While there are those out there declaring that the events of January 6 is not America, it is our responsibility to declare courageously, like Cori Bush and Amanda Gorman, that indeed, “This is America,” to borrow a phrase from Childish Gambino (thanks Sarah). I agree with Zaru. It is necessary; it is important, for those of us who have been omitted publicly to tell our stories. I am a storyteller, of course I want our stories to be told. And I want us to tell them. If we do not, then what we have experienced, as those perceived to be in the minority, will be omitted in the same way President Lyndon Johnson attempted to silence Fannie Lou Hamer during her 1964 DNC speech.

And while we are telling our omitted stories, it is also time that the American majority, those that have controlled the narrative for generations, stop telling false narratives of how great this nation is and has been. In addition to President Biden’s declaration on the eve of his inauguration, I also appreciate his efforts to counter some of these false narratives since taking office. President Biden, so far, is setting a good example. Some of his actions and efforts are a good start. Some of his language, on the other hand, could use some work. But I choose to believe his life and career has taught him a few things. As a result, he is trying – no one is perfect.  

We can’t just move on. We can’t just call for unity and unification. When has this country ever truly been unified? From the very beginning, this country was founded with a have and have nots mentality. We, like the people of Israel after Moses’ death, need to pause. In order to heal, there is a need for weeping. There is a need for evaluation. There is a need for truth telling -- pure and authentic. Things cannot continue as they were. Things cannot “go back to normal.” Too many wounds have become scars; scars that are reminders of the abuse, pain, and trauma that has been caused in this country in the name of democracy; under the guise of religious authority even.

To heal, we must remember. And sometimes, remembering means looking at Wednesday, Jan. 6, 2021, as your man in the mirror moment.

We are not a more perfect union. We can be. But if Barack Obama’s presidency has taught me anything, there is going to be a lot of kicking and screaming along the way. America, are you ready?

I'm just sayin...it is NOT enough!

I wonder how many people are expecting the protests to end now that the four officers who were involved in the killing of #georgefloyd have been arrested and charged? If so, it just goes to show how blind they are, like Drew Brees, to the root issue that has ignited all of this. While these four have been charged, there is still the issue of systemic racism, racial bias, police brutality, neglect, #breonnataylor, #trayvonmartin, #sandrabland, #tamirrice, the impact of #covid19 on the Black and Brown community, and the list goes on and on.

The killing of #georgefloyd is just one piece of the puzzle. There is still #ahmaudarbery and the systems that allowed his killers to walk about free FOR MONTHS without any repercussions. There is still the issue of Christian bible thumpers who have appropriated the life and message of Jesus and MLK and countless others to chastise, criticize, and dehumanize generations of people — “the least of these” — in the name of faith, religion, and respectability.

The protests that have erupted across this globe is connected to truth, truth that the powerful elite and the powers that be do not want to be spoken or known because they fear what it would mean for their pockets and access and control. Simply arresting and charging the FOUR is not enough, when countless other police officers, government officials, military personnel, etc, continue to use excessive force and hide behind their badges in the name of law and order.

It is not enough when those that “mean well,” continue to export racism knowingly and unknowingly, and follow their actions up with, “I don’t have a racist bone in my body,” after falsely calling the police and weaponizing one’s blackness against them. It is not enough when Karen and Tom attempt to crack their whip of privilege to police and exclude the young Black and Brown and LGBTQ and seemingly poor individuals they think don’t belong and perform as if they have the grand authority to speak and we listen.

It simply is not enough. This is just the tip of the iceberg. What about those who took the lives of #breonnataylor and #sandrabland and what happened to #tonymcdade and #iyannadior as people marched for #georgefloyd. It is simply not enough when the one they call the 45th President of the United States has law officials attack innocent and peaceful protestors so that he can stage a photo opp, and for what, and police continue to use excessive and unnecessary force as local, national, and international cameras capture their actions, the protest must and still continue.

Something has to change, but not just something. The hearts and character of the majority have to change. The heart and soul of this country has to change. The presence of intergenerational and intercultural exclusion HAS to change. This moment cannot be symbolic like moments have been before. This moment has to be a movement and there have to be explicit and tangible adjustments made.

If not, keep marching, keep protesting, keep filming!

I'm just saying...I feel your pain

During my second year of seminary, I struggled. No, my struggle wasn’t academic. No, my struggle wasn’t spiritual. My struggle was practical. I struggled with, “Now that I am being exposed to all of this history and knowledge and understanding, what do I do with any of it and how does any of it help those God will call me to stand with and before.”

I had no clue what I was stepping into and I wanted clear guidance and answers for how to help those who would seek me for help.

In the six or seven years since graduating, I have found myself at a difficult intersection a handful of times. And right now, I find myself in that same place again. As a 41-year-old, same-gender-loving, Black man from the metro Atlanta area, I am of a generation who were taught that the best way to effect change is education and voting. I have all of this education. I have exercised my right to vote in just about every election since I turned 18. And yet, I am sitting here, in my home in Stone Mountain, in one of our cute chairs from some online furniture store, looking at the front windows of the home I purchased with my husband almost a year ago, and I am angry and sad and scared and disappointed and I have no answers and I am tired.

I am tired because I have pretty much done everything I was instructed to do — go to school, get an education (I have three degrees), get a good job, get a house, get married (even though I didn’t get married in the way they expected and to the gender, they intended), and do good in the world. But I don’t feel safe and I don’t feel free.

But I am also tired and sad and angry and disappointed and scared because last night in my city, in the city I was born and call home, I watched two very troubling scenarios take place and like Killer Mike, I didn’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here, at this moment in history, where another Black body has been vandalized and looted and damaged and lynched. I don’t want to be here while my city was vandalized and looted and damaged and lynched.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be angry because yet again, another Black body was doing what we were taught to do, be good and behave and respectful and mind your business and don’t give them any reason to harm you. And yet again, they followed those instructions and as a result, STILL lost their lives. And then what did some of us do? We turned around and chastised and fussed and yelled at our very own last night because they did not behave in the “Atlanta way!” What has the Atlanta way gotten any of us? How has it helped us when countless young Black boys and men and girls and women and children are working two or three jobs just to pay bills and eat? How has it helped us when our jails and prisons are packed with bodies that look like me? How has it changed anything when areas north of Atlanta are considered with saving and a priority, but those that are south or west are considered dispensable? And, and, and, at the same time, many of our leaders look like us, but spend more time telling us, once again, to be respectful and respectable, mind your manners, and behave.

Our young people are angry. They are hurting. They are tired. They are losing friends and family at the hands of the very people sworn to protect and serve, and they are following the rules in the way we told them, and yet, nothing has changed and they are still struggling and still scared and being tormented by the authority.

We have made them this way. We have failed them. We have failed ourselves. We have failed each other. And this country, which claims to be the home of the free and the land of the brave was never meant to be for us but designed to be against us. The very fabric of this country is rooted in destruction and control and power, and violence.

Violence is not the way? That’s all this world knows is violence. Violence is written into every seam of this society. Violence has always been the manner to which any change has occurred. Read the books. Read the Bible. There have always been war and pillage. Most religions spread after some form of war and grand massacre where the believers used violence to wipe out entire societies in the name of God. Slavery was rooted in violence. The Civil Rights Act was the result of violence. Yes, there were marches and organizing and demonstrations, but there was also change after Bloody Sunday. There was change after King was assassinated. Violence has always brought about change.

I am sad. I am disappointed. I am frustrated. I am tired.

I. Feel. Your. Pain.

And I understand that sometimes, sometimes, we don’t always have the “tools” available to us to be calculated and proper and respectful and strategic. Sometimes, sometimes, we are so angry and tired and frustrated that we want to break something. Last night, a group of people broke things. They broke things because they got tired. They broke things because we all have failed each other.

What do we do from here? I don’t know. I wish I had the answers. I wish I had some sort of solution. But what I do know is sometimes it takes breaking something in order for something else to happen. I also know that success and change and freedom does not come by one way of doing things. Change and success and freedom comes when a series of efforts, a series of actions, a series of strategies are put into place. Change takes multilayered, multi-faceted effort. Change takes diverse strategies and perspectives and attempts. We don’t need one leader. We need many leaders. And we need many voices. And we need many actions because we are many and diverse and different. It will be our differences that save us in the long run.

Our babies are tired. Our babies are fed up. Our babies want change and they want it now. And their desires, their wants, their demands may be unreasonable, but they are scared and tired and fed up. They are tired of mourning and the feeling of anxiety they are forced to deal with. And we have to do a better job of hearing them and working with them and finding ways to do what is necessary together, calculated, experimental, and flexible.

I didn’t want to see my city burning last night. But I also don’t want to be part of the chorus sitting on the sidelines like old man Joe, waving my fingers and yelling, “You know better!” They don’t want to be here either. But they are and they are trying to figure this thing out just like we are.

And some may read this and disagree with me. If so, so be it. But if you choose to focus more on telling me why I am wrong or unreasonable or that there has to be a better way or a different way or looting and tearing stuff down is counterproductive, then you will prove in your disagreement and response that you didn’t hear (or read) a word I said (or typed), which means you are no better than those who have chosen to perceive us as savages without taking the time to understand us and what we are feeling. You are being no better than the ones that have caused us generations of pain and frustration. You are no better than the status quo and are refusing to even try to relate, understand, or care.

Am I saying that what happened in Atlanta on Friday night and in other cities across the country, was right?! No. But I won’t sit here and chastise and berate and demean and abuse because that doesn’t help either and only causes more division.

We all must do a better job. We all just want to be heard and respected and free and seen and cherished and free.

I don’t want to be here. None of us do. But we are, so what do we do with where we are and with what we have? And how can we effect change in a way that is less finger waging and more coalition-based?

Any suggestions? Let’s get to work!