The Tribune

By PACO NUNEZ Tribune News Editor BAHAMIANS don't like people who 'ain like us'. Not that we're all very similar - nothing could be further from the truth - but most of us enjoy basking in the warmth and security of shared beliefs and opinions, whatever our perspective happens to be in private. This collective consciousness is dominated by two general themes: who we are as a people, our self-image; and the definition of proper behaviour, what is right and wrong to do. In the second category, homosexuality features prominently in the "wrong" list. Whether the explanation is religious or pseudo-scientific, everyone knows what the proper, Bahamian view is. At the same time, we like to tell ourselves we are above the violent discrimination seen in other countries. This is where the self-image bit comes in, the assumption of Bahamian "specialness". We don't stone or shoot gay people like they do in say, Jamaica. We don't like people who are different, but we tolerate them. "They" have it good here compared to other places, and shouldn't complain; should be thankful even. The problem with constructing a national identity out of generalisations is that it forces you to leave out the details, especially the ones that go against your polished version of the truth. Emphasising the absence of frequent violence, we conveniently ignore the fear of violence, not to mention psychological and emotional abuse suffered every day by those we decide are too different. Then, just to rub salt in the wound, we turn around and use our tidied up, detail-free view of ourselves to justify or excuse these acts. "He think he have it bad here? Let him try go live in (insert intolerant country of choice) and see what happen," is the usual rationalisation. But living in a society that says you are an acceptable target of harassment and derision weighs down on a person to the point where they begin to feel they are suffocating. Each slight, each dig, each threat, adds a bit more to humiliation, alienation, fear - like the Chinese torture method, it is Death by a Thousand Tiny Cuts. In my time as a journalist, I have heard such stories more times than I can remember, from gay people, Haitian nationals, the disabled, people with HIV/AIDS. It is enough to share but one: that of my friend Erin Greene, a political satirist, human rights activist, social commentator and artist. Erin is well-known as an advocate of Bisexual, Gay, Lesbian and Transgender (BGLT) rights, and will not back down from a discussion, no matter how heated the exchange or hostile the environment. But for more than two years now, she has been the victim of an opponent she can't stand face to face with. This person lurks, hides behind the safety of the telephone, free to distress and frighten without risk of exposure or consequence. "The calls started in January 2010," Erin said. "The person rarely speaks, but makes noises that sound like someone masturbating, breathing heavily. "He or she spoke on one occasion, when they thought a child was on the other end, and on another occasion to my mother demanding to speak to her daughter." There is therefore no doubt the person is calling specifically for Erin, and, more worringly, that he or she is familiar with the household. Nor is there any doubt in Erin's mind about the objective. "I feel the calls are an attempt to intimidate, harass and threaten me. "I am concerned for the safety of my household. I am concerned that the behaviour may escalate to violence against my person and those in my household, and may have already escalated to property damage." She is referring to the fact that her car was broken into one night after the phone calls began. A while later, a truck crashed into the utility pole outside the house in the middle of the night and was abandoned there. Erin admits these incidents are probably not connected to the phone calls, particularly in the case of the truck, but pointed out that the possibility does exist that they represent an escalation of the harassment. At the very least, she feels, this angle should be looked into considering the circumstances - though based on their apparent lack of interest, the police don't agree. Erin said of the truck crash: "We were uncertain about what was happening, so we waited until the morning to investigate and call the police. "The first call to the Fox Hill Station was at 7am, the second was approximately an hour and a half later, after being told we'd have to wait even longer for a car to become available." A car never did. Nor have the phone calls been investigated with anything like the efficiency that such a potentially dangerous and easily resolvable matter should be. Erin would prefer to view it as a simple case of limited resources and staff shortages, but I'm inclined to believe at least some of the officers involved feel less of an obligation to serve and protect a gay rights activist who in their minds has brought this on herself anyway. Either way, it has only reinforced the message sent by the behaviour of many others in the law enforcement community. Erin said: "When attempting to make anonymous reports about crime, officers regularly identify me by name, indicating that they know who I am, sometimes insisting that I must give them my information in order to follow up on the matter, even though I have yet to receive a follow-up on matters where I have identified myself in the report. "While driving through road blocks, I am confronted by officers that feel a need to shout my name loudly in the street although I have committed no infractions." Any why not? If the so-called average Bahamian is free to take "harmless" shots at certain people, why not police officers? The trouble is once you start down this road, the line between individual and institutional discrimination eventually becomes blurred, leaving certain people without access to fundamental things like justice, safety, rights. Erin said: "Violence manifests in many different forms. While Jamaica experiences high levels of physical violence towards the BGLT community, in the Bahamas we experience commensurate levels of psychological and emotional violence." While gay Bahamians are relatively safe in the workplace, at home and in the community, she said, they are often marginalised from the mainstream workforce and excluded from professional, social, spiritual and familial activities and institutions. "And this treatment is not limited to the BGLT community, nor to minority communities like the disabled, Rastafarians and Muslims, but to anyone who does not fit the mainstream mould, ie anyone identified as other or 'them'," Erin said. And because everybody's doing it, politicians and other would-be leaders "perpetuate false theology and faulty policies" excusing this kind of marginalisation in an effort to gain or maintain popularity. "This has resulted in a hostile environment for healthy personal and professional development of Bahamians in general and the BGLT community and other vulnerable communities in particular," Erin said. "While my greatest concern is the safety and security of myself and my household, I am acutely aware that many other Bahamians are living under the same conditions, where citizens must out of self-interest act outside of the scope of the law to ensure their safety and well being." I guess we aren't so special after all. What do you think? pnunez@tribunemedia.net