Posts tagged trinilikesalt
Trini Like Salt
Because Trinidadians are just like salt - in eeeeeverything
an american by choice tells me about getting a green card, becoming bostonian, and more (part two)
Yesterday, I featured Part 1 of an interview with Gary, who was “born, bred, and baked in Trinidad,” and became an American citizen in 2009. Now he lives in Boston with his wife and two daughters. I loved hearing about his decision to become an American, and how he assimilated into New England. In fact, I am so inspired by his perspective, that I kind of want to be Gary! (This is Part 2 of a two-part interview.)What was the process like becoming a citizen?The actual citizenship process is a bitch. No getting around that. It sucks. SUCKS! Any time I see or hear people speak about immigration issues, or how people should just go through the process and assimilate, it reveals their total and complete ignorance of the labyrinthian process.That’s not to say that becoming a citizen of any country should be easy. It shouldn’t. You should have to jump through some hoops. You should have to prove yourself. But what you shouldn’t have to do is put up with the bureaucracy, the arbitrariness, the cold-heartedness, the years—sometimes decades—of time and money it takes being in limbo. And yes, it costs money. Sometimes, a lot, if you have to retain a lawyer.
Hey look! It’s me again! Part deux. And yes, Kally - you’re in the Circle of Trust.
Life
Gary messaged me this morning to say that he had posted one of the pictures from our shoot that I had chosen. He wrote something really lovely underneath the first that brought me to tears (he tends to have that effect on me).
Several months ago I had to move out of my apartment because I was living with someone who did not respect my boundaries and insisted repeatedly that we should make our relationship sexual. I felt threatened and uncomfortable. I had to scramble to find a place quickly. It was my third move in as many years. My fifth move in 8 years. I have been struggling to find a place to call home.
I found a great place and I finally felt happy and comfortable, even though it was very expensive. A month later I got laid off from my job. And two months after that we discovered that my father had cancer. The odds are not in his favour. It’s been a lot to take.
Life has been rather challenging lately, but it’s just part of the struggle I’ve been dealing with for a very long time. Things have never quite fallen into place for me, professional or personally. The trajectory of my life has been unexpected. At 39, I’m not even remotely where I want to be in any part of my life.
I don’t think that life owes me anything. But I do think there should come a point where it levels out a bit. Where at least one part of your life is working. It hasn’t happened that way for me. Not yet at any rate. But I hope that trend changes and changes soon. Because I really need some good news at this point. Something has to give. Or else what gives is going to be me.
But something as simple as Gary sending me good vibes today made me cry. Because I feel so alone in dealing with all of this. I am single. And I have some amazing friends who are helping me through this but in the end I alone have to find a way to pick myself up every day and find something bigger than what is happening to me to help me get out of bed. And help me deal with the world around me which is still spinning on it’s axis as usual. Life goes on. And I have to find the strength to get out there and find a new job doing… something. And I have to find the strength to go to my parents’ home and contribute in a positive way to help everyone deal with what is happening to us all. I have to be strong. And being strong is something that I’m really, really good at. So good that most people don’t notice. They just think that’s me being regular old me. But it’s not. It’s something I have to reach inside and pull on. I decide every day to be strong and not stay in bed, not cry. I decide to be happy. I cannot afford not to be those things because I will fall apart. And I can’t afford to fall apart. Because there is no one there to put me back together. It is just me. And in a lot of ways it pretty much always has been.
Today Gary let me know that he sees me. He sees my struggle. He appreciated the time I spent with him. And he wishes the best for me. That mattered. It mattered to me a lot. It made me happy and grateful today. Today I feel a little less alone.
Reducing strong, beautiful women to tears (not to mention convincing them to model for me) since 1970, y’all! I AM CLEARLY NOT TO BE TRIFLED WITH!
By the way - I did, and do, appreciate the time with Natasha. As I do her presence here, despite everything she’s dealing with.
*waving*
Christmas is coming early my friend.
At the beginning of the shoot, Gary had an idea of what he wanted to see, but wasn’t sure how to tell me. Maybe he could have said, “Put your right knee here; bend your left elbow” and so on, but instead, he said “You’re a very curvy woman.” and I knew what to do.
Every curvy girl knows that her curves are an asset to be accentuated.
I spent the rest of the shoot stretching myself into postures that would lengthen my body and embellish the shape of my hips and chest, and diminish angles.
I have no idea if I’ve ever actually looked like this in real life under suitable circumstances, but I really, really hope so.
Kally was, and is, a person you hope you get a chance to shoot - and then hope you don’t fuck it up when you get the chance. I’ve shot her before - once after one of her runs, and once in a state of semi-undress (and flour). Despite her initial nervousness that last time, it was clear that she knew her way around a camera, and was confident enough in how she looked and how she would be portrayed in photographs.
This time around, she wanted to be shot because she had trained for and run the Chicago Marathon, and her body had responded in kind. We had discussed what she was hoping to capture - and once we got that, she gave me carte blanche power to place and move her as need be in order to get good shots. Her confidence was elevated, and it showed - both during the shoot, and in the resulting images. I usually edit down the results of a shoot by as much as 75%; I had to force myself to delete images from this shoot.
She is curvy, and the images we got shows them. They are among the best work I’ve ever done, partly because of them.
But mostly because of her, and how comfortable she is with those curves.
In Which I Make Gary’s Head Explode….
I may, or may not be applying to several phd programs with concentrations in qualitative and interpretive methodologies.
WUT?!
I HAVE INSPIRED AGAIN!!!!!
I’m a regular Roderic! Or is is Codric? Cedric? Matthew Broderick? You know - the old vampire who “makes” the skinny white boy every woman including my wife thinks is hot, who looks like he’s 14.
That guy! I “make”! Lookit me!!!
Who’s next? Who’s gonna chuck it all and take up photography and marry a person outside their race and have daughters and act the fool? COS I’M A BLUEPRINT, BAYBEH!
Gary is intoxicated by delicious chowder.
CLAM BRAAAIIINNSSS!
Kally and I have spent tonight pouring over our pictures from the photoshoot with Gary to find the perfect ones to share with you. We are each sharing one solo shot (or in my case, solo-ish) and one of us together. This is my solo shot.
Gary, you are absolutely amazing.
THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!
Also, thank you.
As we may have mentioned, Casey and I had a photo shoot with Gary Ottley, who is an amazingly skilled photographer, and he has allowed us free rein to post any of the 512 images he shot that day.
We have spent much of the evening debating which photos we would share, since they are…risque, and require consent from both of us. We have now narrowed it down to four photos, one solo shot of each of us, and two shots of both of us, which we are specifically sharing on a Sunday night, because OMG butts.
Anyway. This is my choice for my solo shot.
By the way, thanks again, Gary. It was an awesome experience working with you.
The pleasure was all mine. Can one say pleasure without sounding dirty? Whatever. It didn’t suck.
