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[lafiyahenry]

T’was the Night Before

 T’was the night before Christmas and I was f*cking miserable. Crying on Christmas Eve isn’t something novel or new to me but this year’s Christmas celebrations have been making me feel increasingly more depressed than I was before this season began. I’m no stranger to having shitty Christmases but this one is undoubtedly one of the worst. My “happy, go-lucky, magical Christmas Spirit'' probably died somewhere between the ages of 13-16 and that makes me sad. It makes me sad  because I really used to enjoy Christmases. If anybody knew my grandfather, they knew that he was “D Original Christmas Man”. Very much and annoyingly so. When I was a kid, he’d paint the picture of a magical, snowy, Santa filled Christmas. Even after I stopped believing in Santa, he kept pushing the idea that he was my Santa. Christmases changed for me after my father died. I could no longer focus on the holiday, I was too busy counting down the days to his death anniversary that looms so early in January. Christmases changed for me when it was no longer necessary for parents to bullshit it because I was getting older. Christmases changed when the things I wanted started getting expensive or unattainable. I thought last year would have been the worst Christmas ever because it was the first one I had to have without my grandfather- but this year has definitely taken the cake and surpassed anything else that came before it. 

2020 has simultaneously been the best and worst year of my life. I’m sure I’m not the only person who holds that opinion. This year has been hard. Extremely. Have great and amazing things come out of it? Absolutely. Does that negate all the pain that I’ve felt? Hell no. I’m grateful for everything and all of my blessings that I’ve gotten. I was able to start the business I’ve always wanted to start, I survived the hardest school semester of my entire academic career, I got a job, I am able to finally have my own space and this is the healthiest mentally and physically I’ve ever been… that’s why I wanted this year’s Christmas to be different. My first mistake was allowing myself to get excited. Months ago, I was determined that this year’s Christmas will be different and I’ll finally have one that I could genuinely appreciate. I had all these ideas and dreams in my head that have all come crashing down around me, burning as they fell. I didn’t get my Tobago reset vacation, I didn’t get my matching Christmas pajamas, I didn’t even get paid. Most Christmas gifts have been deferred to January, which is already depressing enough. Is it time for me to just accept that Christmas is a holiday for children and face the fact that I'll never feel the feeling that I’m so longingly reaching for? Is it time for me to come to the conclusion that Christmas is a shitty holiday? Or am I just placing too much childish importance in it? In my heart I feel like everybody should have a holiday where they feel surrounded by love, support and family. Maybe that’s just my naïve, broken heart speaking- because as I lay here writing this and crying, my heart is broken. I worked really hard and I wanted all these things and I got none of it. I know there are more important things going on in the world like an entire pandemic, famine and wars. Here I am, a privileged working middle-class young woman crying about not feeling the Christmas Spirit. I definitely know somewhere out there, someone is rolling their eyes at this. 

This is how I feel and those feelings are valid. I’m currently trying to talk myself out of just staying home and isolating myself to cry. I definitely know that’s counterintuitive but honestly that’s just how I feel. This is the first year I’ve felt like a Grinch. Maybe the Grinch and Scrooge all rolled up into one. It doesn’t even feel like Christmas for me. Slowly, this holiday is losing all its importance to me and I’m becoming even more disenchanted. This morning as I was getting ready to go to work, I watched myself cry in the mirror as I felt the gaping hole in my chest. I feel the space my father and grandfather left behind. I miss them so much that it’s making me sick to my stomach. Of course, I still have family but nothing feels the same anymore. I don’t feel the same anymore. My life continues to change so much, so rapidly. I just thought I could have something nice and something that I wanted for once, silly me right? I’m sorry that this isn’t a “feel good” Christmas blog where I can offer empty platitudes and fake smiles. It hurts too much right now to try to extract some sort of lesson or something deep and insightful from this experience. Maybe in a couple weeks I’ll revisit it to try to make sense of something. Although, a lot of things generally don’t make sense to me anymore anyway. To all those grieving a loss, hurting in any kind of way during the holidays, struggling to make ends meet and don’t feel seen or don’t feel like their pain is warranted during this time: I see you and I’m right there with you. You’re allowed to feel the way that you feel, you don’t have to push what you’re feeling aside because “It's Christmas, you should be happy.” 

I know that somehow I’ll be okay. The pain will subside. Christmas Day will come and go and I won’t be constantly reminded of everything I’ve lost or don’t have. My lungs will continue to inhale and exhale even if sometimes I wished they wouldn’t. It will get better. I’m speaking more so to myself but I hope whoever you are, wherever you are reading this- I hope you hang in there with me. Maybe one day I’ll figure out Christmas and maybe it won’t cause as much pain anymore. So for right now, you can catch me in my apartment with my red eyes, watching sappy movies to try to make myself feel better. Do what you need to do to take care of you in these times. I love you. I see you. I’m here with you <3  

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal. 

-Love, Lafiya.  

[lafiyahenry]

What It Means to Live.

2020 has taught me that there aren’t many sorry’s. This year has not been kind. I’ve learned that the longest of ropes run out, the road comes to a dead end and sometimes you have to scale over the wall just to survive. I learned that nightmares do come true and even while that is true, we enjoy the days that we do have. In whatever ways that we can. Through Zoom calls, Houseparty meet ups or even playing with your niece’s dolls.

We will never again take for granted the luxury of not wearing a mask because we don’t have to fight for our lives. We will join with our friends at gatherings and hold them close knowing that we are blessed to be alive. We can show love openly because we don’t know what day will be our last.

2020 taught me to live. Not survive. Not “get by”, not settle but L I V E. We have a finite amount of time on this big, beautiful planet that’s floating in the atmosphere. This is our home. We’re so bombarded by opinions and what people think that we’re not living life as our OWN. At least, I wasn’t.

I learned boundaries, I learned to say no, I was introduced to true and genuine happiness. I tried new things, I gave up control and sometimes it feels like I’ve been in a perpetual free fall. Sometimes I’m scared, but most times I trust the Most High has got a plan. And this whole, screwed up world is in his hands.

So, right now we cry. Right now, we weep. My eyes blink and they can’t conjoure any sleep. We try to make sense of the year. Growth has been painful and shocking but stunningly clear. We fight and riot, we keep our heads up, we shout to the top of our lungs and we sing. I haven’t even met my birthday, we still have four more months to go, we have to live them anyway.

RIP Chadwick Boseman, K Lion, Kobe Bryant, Rebel.

RIP Gianna Bryant, Pop Smoke, Naya Riveria, And my grandfather, Errol Cole.

[lafiyahenry]

#BLM

I have been genetically lucky. 

I am black but I am not “dark skinned” so I’ve never had to endure the endless torture that people with darker skin have endured their whole life. 

I am black but my hair has evidence of being “mixed” so my hair does not have to withstand the same amount of controversy as another natural haired girl. 

I am black but I do not have the features that many black men and women are criticized for. I do not have the Jackson 5 nostrils or luscious lips. 

Which means that any racism that I’ve ever endured in my lifetime, is nowhere NEAR what others who are also apart of my race have felt. I can’t wrap my head around that. I can’t imagine being hated just because of what you look like. Have I ever experienced racism? Hell, yes but I am simultaneously aware of my privilege and the fact that IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH WORSE.  

I am  BLESSED to be black. We are the originators. We are creative and resilient and strong. We have endured CENTURIES of mistreatment and being trampled underfoot. It didn’t start with George Floyd. We saw it with Sandra Bland, Philando Castile, Ahmed Aubrey and the one that still breaks my heart today: Trayvon Martin. The sad part is, there are so many others. So many other names that I could have called. My people are tired. They are killing us in broad daylight, with recorded proof and justice is still not being served. What else do we do? How do we stop ourselves from being hunted? 

Praying? We did that. Peaceful protests? We did that too. Signing the petitions? DONE. Raising money, trying to change laws, trying to speak to the hearts and minds and conscience of others? We done all that. We begged and pleaded for us not to lose our lives- Now what?! The only thing they seem to understand is the looting and rioting of our brothers and sisters. That seems to be the only way black people will ever be free. That’s the only way we gained freedom from slavery in the first place. 

My ancestors were beaten and sold into slavery. My ancestors would have rather faced a watery graved than become enslaved. My ancestors marched on Washington with Martin Luther King Jr. My ancestors were apart of the Black Panther Party that stood against police brutality. My ancestors revolted in The Haitian Revolution and were Maroons in the hills of Jamaica. My ancestors listened to Malcom X and found strength in their blackness. I will do the same. 

I urge you, if you can: get out on those streets and protest. Donate to a cause. Speak up on social media. Let your voices be heard! We have endured long enough. We are continually suffering for the crime of being born with a darker skin complexion. Being black should not be a handicap or a death sentence. 

We are brave. 

We are beautiful. 

We are loved. 

Let’s get justice for George Floyd! 

- Love, Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

Thoughts About Grief:

I’ve been thinking a lot about my dead father, who died when I was seven years old, while I was just getting to know him. 

About my dead grandfathers, who died within months of each other, not that long ago. 

About my dead cousins, whose energy I enjoyed being around while growing up. 

The way that death has been rearing its ugly head in my life from a very early stage, you’d  think that I’d be better at dealing with it and handling it- but the truth is that I’m not. I feel like I’m the worst person at grieving and processing that pain. Contrary to how this blog post began, this is not going to be a post about me just whining about my losses. I’m going to share with you what I’ve learned about grief. At this point he feels like an old friend that won’t stop showing up at my family reunions. 

 A couple of nights ago I re-read a book that I loved when I was a teenager and I still do today! It’s called “The Sky Is Everywhere” by Jandy Nelson. I enjoyed this book because for the first time I saw someone explain perfectly how the grief process felt. In the book, the teenage protagonist Lennie admits all the darkness she’s feeling and how she’s finding it hard to relate to other people because all she feels is pain. Lennie confesses about wanting to hurl a building at God and being angry at the deceased for leaving. She describes the debilitating feeling of grief pressing into your chest so hard that you can’t breathe. I loved the book because it made me cry. It made me bawl. 

When I was younger I held on to the pain and grief of my father’s death because the truth is, I was afraid to let go. I was afraid to let go because I thought that letting go of the pain meant that I would forget him and just had to go about my every day life as I saw the other adults doing. I hated it. I did not want to “move on”. I hated not talking about him. I hated not having him near. I hated that I felt robbed and cheated from the life experience of having a father. Letting go of him and moving on felt like a betrayal to his memory so I dug my little seven year old claws into the pain and held on to it. I didn’t let go for years.

Much later, I learned that letting go  ≠ forgetting. I realized and learned that  I could let go of the toxic torture of reliving the pain and trauma of his death and still miss him and honor his memory. So, does that mean that I don’t still cry or feel some pain over his passing? Absolutely not. I think about him almost every day. Sometimes I imagine talking to him and a lot of times I feel him with me. I feel his presence a lot. 

I am proof that the theory of “time healing all wounds” is simply false. I am of the opinion that we don’t ever really stop grieving. It never stops hurting. You never stop missing them. You will shed a tear every now and again but you learn to pick yourself up and live with it. You realize that it’s okay to cry and miss them and keep the memories close to your heart. You learn that the dull pain humming in your chest subsides enough for you to have good days, full of joy and happiness. The good news is that grief always comes but she never stays. 

“grief is a house where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us the mirrors how to reflect us the walls how to contain us grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping grief is a house where no one can protect you where the younger sister will grow older than the older one where the doors no longer let you in or out” ― Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere

“My sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.” ― Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere

- Love, Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

How To: Get Your Shit Together

I’ve found myself reading a lot of self-help books lately. 

That didn’t happen intentionally but I’m glad it happened when it did. It all began when I finally picked up “The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck” by Mark Manson. I heard buzz around this book for years but for some reason, never got my hands on it. Timing is definitely everything because for me, this book was the catalyst. It really made me open my eyes and realize the places in my life where I had been accepting less from others and also from myself. I remember at the end of last year I felt so depleted and empty because I was giving and giving so much to other people and it wasn’t being reciprocated. I was’t being replenished, not by them and certainly not by myself. I underwent long, painful and arduous months of feeling horrible and being unable to do what made me happy because I was so disconnected from myself. I didn’t even know what those things were.

 After picking up “The Subtle Art”, I also downloaded “Girl, Wash Your Face” by Rachel Hollis and then finally, “You Are A Badass” by Jen Sincero. While reading the first two, I had made steps to rekindle my relationship with God and do some healing in a lot of the places where I needed it but it was “You Are A Badass” that really lighted this deep burning desire inside of me to live life at my fullest potential. It feels like a million years ago but I remember when I was a teenager, talking to God and asking him about my purpose in life. Amazingly, he answered me and I’ve kept all the things he has said to me and promises that he made to me tucked away in my heart for a very long time. I felt discouraged and frustrated when I saw things going the complete opposite to what he told me and the things I knew to be true. I know now that he is putting pressure on me so that I may turn into the diamond who is able to live freely in her purpose. 

Nothing worth having ever comes easy. Read that line again. And again. I had experienced so much heartbreak and pain that subconsciously, I used as a lens that I kept seeing my life through.I knew that I was talented and destined for greatness, God told me so himself, but I also believed that I’d never be free from the pain I felt or the hell that I was living. It’s absurd. God wants me to live in the abundance of a beautiful life and I was the only thing standing in my own way. 

I HAD TO LEARN TO BELIEVE IN MYSELF.  

And not the surface level of “believing in yourself”. The gritty, hard, self love that comes along with it. This post is in no way me saying that I’ve fully achieved all of these things but I am trying and I’m well on my way compared to the broken girl crying herself to sleep every night. One other major life choice that I made right after reading “You Are A Badass” was that I hired a life coach! Yes, an actual life coach! 

Never before in my life had I thought about hiring a life coach. Being both Black and Caribbean, we grow up with beliefs that some things are for “certain” people and we are not the target demographic. If you wanted to change anything in your life your only option was prayer, anything else was an abomination and I’m here to let you know that that just isn’t true. While prayer is the fuel that keeps our faith running, things like GOING TO THERAPY and HIRING A LIFE COACH are integral and conducive to living a better life. These things cannot continue to be taboo in our societies. Einstein stated that insanity  was doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different outcome and that’s how most of us are operating in our lives daily. You say you want change and you say that you want  better but you cannot do better if you don’t know better. You don’t get things by just wanting it, you also have to work for it. When you want to get your body right for Carnival, don’t you go to a gym and hire a trainer? So, what’s the difference in doing it for your mind and gaining a full life transformation? My experience with Letina and True Growth Caribbean has been amazing and I went into it with an open mind and heart. She’s acted as an ear to listen to me, a voice of reasoning and truth and an agent of re-affirming and reminding me of things I already know about myself. I highly recommend her! I am urging anybody, If you have a burning desire to change your life and live to your truest potential, please take the necessary steps! 

With all that being said, it’s also okay to move at your own pace and do things in your own timing. If you’re not able to do a huge 180 like I did, little changes eventually add up. In YOUR timing and on YOUR journey, you’re going to get to where you need to be. We’re all just doing the best that we can. 

I love you guys, thank you so much for reading my words. 

- Love Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

WATERMELON SUGAR

[lafiyahenry]

New blog post entitled “War Of My Life” is now available through the link in my bio 💞 (at Santa Cruz, Trinidad and Tobago) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAIcJPnjN6i/?igshid=1rb2s5azhncpb

[lafiyahenry]

War of My Life

John Mayer’s 2009 album “Battle Studies” houses a song entitled “War Of My Life”. If I’m being truthful, I honestly never took much notice to the song while listening to the album which is why it was weird for me to call back to it when I thought about writing this piece. I am in the War of My Life. In the song, John sings about fighting against darkness and uncertainty. Being ready and prepared to inevitably face them instead of running away and I connect to that right now in this phase of my life. 

I don’t talk about my faith and what I believe in much on this blog but this is one of the most challenging seasons that I have no choice but to walk through alone. I can’t explain what it is or the feeling that I have but the only way that I may be able to sum it up is with one word: metamorphosis. 

According to Wikipedia, Metamorphosis is a biological process by which an animal physically develops after birth or hatching, involving a conspicuous and relatively abrupt change in the animal's body structure through cell growth and differentiation.

Metamorphosis is famously known as the process which turns the caterpillar into the butterfly and I’m in the cocoon. Even though I cannot see it, I can feel a positive change coming for me. I feel it in the cells of my bones and the pores of my skin. I’m waiting for God to fulfill promises that he made to me. I’m preparing myself and making myself ready for receiving them. I’ve gone through many a dark time in my life, I’m not a stranger to it but this particular time feels monumental. The stakes are high. This is the final exam. Do I want the things that I say I want, bad enough? I’m having to let go of every comfortable thing and surrender it, sacrifice it actually, for the growth that I need for the next level. 

There is this story about an apprentice going to a master and saying that he wants to become like him. The master takes him to the beach and tells him to go into the water. When the water is at his ankles, the master asks “Do you still want it?”. Enthusiastically the apprentice responds “Yes!” The master sends him further out, when the water is at his waist the master asks him the question again which elicits the same response from the boy. He sends him out further into the waves, where his shoulders are now submerged and he has to struggle to keep his head above the water. The master shouts, “Do you still want it?” and the struggling boy responds “Yes!” So the master urges him to go deeper. The boy calls out, “I won’t be able to breathe!” to which the master responds: “ You have to want it more than breathing!” 

I want it far more than breathing. I want the life and abundance that God has for me and I’m unwilling to compromise on it. This is why this time is so important. The battles that I’m fighting now determine the rest of my life and I wholeheartedly believe in the woman that I’m meant to be. In the second verse John says “If fear hasn’t killed me yet/ then nothing will/ all the suffering/ and all the pain/ never left a name” 

Revisiting the butterfly analogy, I once heard a story about a boy who saw a butterfly in a cocoon and it was struggling to be free. He sat there for a long time, fully mesmerized. He wanted to see the big reveal, he wanted the butterfly to be free but it looked so distressed and it seemed like the butterfly would never be free. With good intentions, the boy intervened and set the butterfly free but quickly realized that the butterfly had become handicapped. The poor insect didn’t get it’s chance to fully go through the process of metamorphosis. The struggle is apart of the process. The struggle makes it stronger and able to survive when they finally do emerge out of that cocoon. Sometimes you have to struggle and you’re going to struggle alone. 

I'm in the war of my life/ At the door of my life Out of time and there's nowhere to run/ I'm in the war of my life At the core of my life/ Got no choice but to fight 'till it's done

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wo5bX8rgT4U 

Love, Lafiya, 

[lafiyahenry]

Artsy 💕

[lafiyahenry]

The Brilliance of Call Me By Your Name

This might be weird for me to confess as a Black, Caribbean, Christian girl but... I love gay love stories. I realized this a couple years ago when I read Madeline Miller’s “Song of Achilles” and it became one of my favorite books of all time. It wasn’t just because Achilles and Patroclus were depicted to be secret lovers, it was how human and real the book felt to me. As a reader, there are only few and certain books that I could re-read at any given time. For me, it’s an extremely small category that consists of the entire Twilight Saga and Song of Achilles.

 After reading that I went on to read books like “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe” by  Benjamin Alire Sáenz and “Will Grayson, Will Grayson” by John Green and David Leviathan and found myself enjoying them greatly. I found myself watching series like Netflix’s Sense8 and having it strike a chord in me. (I highly recommend all these shows, movies and books. They were AMAZING). 

 “Why?” Is something that I’ve always wondered to myself. I couldn’t say that I personally related to these characters and what they were feeling but I loved seeing the raw emotion of friendship, love and camaraderie between two people. Heterosexual love in media has gotten to be very superficial, for the most part. Men and women trying to change themselves to adapt to what societal standards are or who they think the other person would want them to be. When those things are taken away and stripped back, who are you really? Who is the other person? It’s so vulnerable and intimate and soul changing and I feel it every single time. Then, I watched Luca Guadagnino’s 2017 masterpiece “Call Me By Your Name” and I was utterly smitten. I fell headfirst in love with Timothee Chalamet and Armie Hammer and the Cinematography and Northern Italy and the Music. Everything just WORKED.

I re-watch this movie when I feel sad and want an immersive experience. I re-watch this movie when I want to feel something. I re-watch this movie when I want to be inspired by everything that art is and can be. That’s what this movie means to me. I’m a woman that loves aesthetics and I could just devour the colors and beauty of it all day. I’m not going to nosedive into explaining every single reason why this film is brilliant because I don’t know if I have the time or words to adequately express how I feel. The film inspires me in so many ways. Of course, after hearing that it was a book adaptation I read the book and loved that as well. I’m sure Adre Aciman is well satisfied with the visual representation of his beloved novel. 

I didn’t love these stories just because they were “gay love stories” and novel or new, finally being depicted in more mainstream media and art.  I loved them because I have humanity. Some may argue that I shouldn’t say “gay love stories” and just deem them “love stories” and I agree. I loved these stories because they were beautifully written and told. I love them because they expressed the kind of emotion that is universal and true. I hope to see more of it, I hope to be captivated by it the same exact way, I hope I’ll be able to hold it close to my heart and cry. I hope that I could still find things that inspire me the way Call Me By Your Name Does. 

And on that note, I will close with a quote from another man who has greatly inspired me, the creator of the Broadway play “Hamilton”: Lin Manuel Miranda. 

“Love is Love, is love, is love, is love, is love” 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3frkqULr008 

[lafiyahenry]

How Money Heist Uses Music

SEASON FOUR SPOILER ALERT! 

I have watched Money Heist religiously since season one. It’s one of the most amazing pieces of art I’ve witnessed. It’s written beautifully, the cinematography is clean, crisp and aesthetically pleasing at all times, the characters are portrayed in such a raw way; we see their flaws and love them nonetheless. After four seasons, they feel like our family too. But yesterday as I sat down to binge watch the latest season, from the first episode I could tell that something was different... and it all began when Berlin opened his mouth and sang. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3xtWk9VJ5s

For those of you who live under a rock, or simply don’t appreciate the finer things in life, Money Heist or La Casa De Papel is a Spanish television heist crime drama series. It’s told from the perspective of our badass female protagonist, Tokyo. A man called The Professor has assembled a team of eight people, all code-named after various cities, to rob the Royal Mint of Spain. The plan is well thought out and we see things progress in real time. What’s even more amazing is that we are on their side. We want them to get away! The heist is a heist for the people, a revolt against the government. There are allusions to Robin Hood where the gang gives money to the poor and so they’re supported by the public. The themes that we see are  anti-fascism, anti-capitalism, and just plain resistance. We also see themes of passion like love, friendship and betrayal. If you’ve seen the show, you know how important music was in the first seasons. Case in Point: Bella Ciao. 

Everybody who has seen this show, knows this song. Bella Ciao encompasses everything that the show is about. It is an Italian protest song that  was modified and adopted as an anthem of the anti-fascist resistance by the Italian partisans between 1943 and 1945 during the Italian Resistance. One of the first times we hear it is in a scene between The Professor and his brother, Berlin, while discussing the plan for the heist. The song feels like hope. It rings of freedom. It quickly became a fan favorite and an “anthem” of sorts. It is simple, catchy and the feeling that rises in you when you sing, becomes infectious. So, the story has always been connected to music but this season was done differently. Let me explain. 

Everybody loves Latin music. Show me someone that doesn’t want to gyrate their hips and take shots of tequila when they hear Latin music and I’ll show you a psychopath. Just the fact that Money Heist is a Spanish television show, they were destined to greatness where any soundtrack was concerned. The theme song “My Life is Going On” by Cecilia Krull is sung in English which is interesting because the music used in Seasons 1 and 2 are Primarily Spanish.  Don’t get me wrong, there are English songs  mixed in there but it predominately is Spanish sung. In Seasons 1 and 2 the music is also scarce compared to 3 and 4. In this article is shows exactly what music was used. But the question is about how the music is being used. 

In the earlier seasons they used music mostly to set the mood and color of the scenes. When using the song Bella Ciao, it was personal to the Professor and Berlin who had learned it from a grandparent. From then, it was adapted to the whole gang who now use it as their personal anthem for resistance. I believe that the soundtrack is developing with the characters as the seasons go by. It’s becoming more personal to them through the use of diegetic music. 

Diegetic Music is a big term that literally means that the music  is part of the fictional setting and so, presumably, is heard by the characters.

 Diegetic = heard by the characters, for example Bella Ciao & Ti Amo (the song Berlin sings for his wife) 

Non- diegetic= My Life is Going On (Theme Song), the music that the characters do not hear. 

For Seasons 3 & 4 there was definitely a bigger budget and more attention paid to the musical selections but there was definitely increased use in diegetic music. We hear Van Morrison’s Days Like This in S4 E2 with Palermo getting ready and we know that the music is heard by him because he sings along (making it diegetic). This song choice is abnormal for the Money Heist that we knew in seasons 1 and 2. It’s not sung in Spanish and it’s not Latin either but it gives the scene a depth to it. Music itself is a Universal language and no matter race, ethnicity or nationality we all understand what the scene is saying, through the music. The tool of irony is being used as well. The music in itself is hopeful and Van Morrison sings about better days but the team isn’t in the best place. One of their own is captured and being questioned by the police . It weirdly makes the scene feel nostalgic and it’s just one of the scenes that really stood out to me while watching it. 

Another great example of diegetic music in Season 4 is when in Episode 5, Nairobi goes to encourage the workers in the forge that are melting the gold and we hear “Fuego by Bomba Estereo”.  She has the music played in speakers while the workers work and we see her sing  the beat of the song. The song sounds personal to Nairobi and her character. It sounds like her. The choice of music in this scene represents Nairobi and her presence in the Forge, how she motivates and takes charge of the men. She asks them to perform their tasks with rhythm! The music has now represented the character.

There are many more examples of how the music is used brilliantly but the real prime moment of awe for me was Nairobi’s death in S4 E6. Damian Rice’s Delicate? It smashed me to pieces emotionally. This is non-diegetic music, the characters themselves have no idea the music is playing. Just like with Days Like This, the song is neither Latin nor sung in Spanish but because of the universality of music, most people understand what is going on subconsciously. Rice’s woeful voice, the slow tempo of the song and heavy use of strings? We know instantly that this is painful. We are visually seeing a beloved character dead and audibly we hear a musical expression of the team’s pain. We see them crying and bawling but we actually don’t hear them. The song that is playing is expressing everything the Director wants us to feel in that moment. 

I could go on and give infinite more examples of when Money Heist had made the right choices regarding music, but then this blog post would be entirely too long. I was born into a family of musicians and have played music for most of my life. So, when a film or television show has done amazing work and placed thought into the creation of an audible landscape that keeps audiences engaged and interested, I have to stan! Hats off to the composers Manel SantistebanIván and Martínez Lacámara for a job well done especially the evolutions from season to season, which they have handled well. 

WE’RE READY FOR SEASON FIVE, NETFLIX! 

Love, Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

What Does This Mean For All of Us?

“And all that day it rained” 

I can’t remember where I read (or heard?) that collection of words. Was it from a book? A poem? A podcast? Did I write it? I genuinely can’t remember, but at random moments like these, that little sentence plagues my mind. I always attribute it to death and someone dying because when it rains while you’re mourning, it feels like the weather is on your side and outside just reflects the mood of what’s happening within. This morning when I woke up to the pattering of rain outside my window, “and all that day it rained” was my first thought. 

It’s been a hard couple of months- just look at what’s going on all around us. 2020 has not been kind. Most of us are confined to our homes because of the dreaded COVID-19. As it stands on Saturday March 28th, Trinidad and Tobago has 74 confirmed cases and 2 people have lost their life because of this virus. We are literally forced into social distancing and the scary part of this is that nobody knows how long this endeavor is going to go on. The entire world is at a standstill and meanwhile it is scary, I also believe that this experience was needed. 

I can only speak for myself but I needed a damn break! The unnerving part is, before the first case arrived to our shores, I prayed for one.I prayed for a break! I prayed that I would be able to catch my breath. It came to a point where I had to schedule when I was allowed to have a  meltdown. When I asked God for a break, I didn’t think it would have come to me through Corona. Furthermore, I expected a vaccination to have been created and distributed by now. Using modern technological advances you can pick the color of your child’s eyes but we can’t prevent all of these deaths?! Now that I am working and going to school from home, I have more time that I can schedule towards things I enjoy like working out, meditating and reading. On the flip side, I realize all the things I took for granted like health, human interaction and dining in a restaurant. The good thing is, after this collective experience that most of us are facing, we’ll never take outside for granted again. 

The questions I keep coming back to are: “When will this end?” “Will we ever be the same?” and “What does this mean for all of us?” 

Do I have answers? Not exactly, but here’s my train of thought: 

“When will this end?”

 In Trinidad we’re hoping that in a couple of weeks we’ll be able to venture out into the world again because we would have stayed home and flattened the curve. By social distancing, it causes the spread of the virus to slow down and make it manageable to our healthcare system. When will we be back outside? God alone knows. Hopefully, soon.  

“Will we ever be the same?”

 If it’s one thing I know about the human race, it’s that we’re resilient. Think about any major world occurrence: 9/11, the Holocaust, The Great Depression, The Financial Crisis of 07-08, The Plague. The human race has survived it all. Of course, with major trauma and bruises, but I’m sure people asked this same question before and then... they survived. And the world kept on spinning. I don’t think we’ll be the same but I also don’t think that there will be a drastic change to us as a population. Hopefully, we’ll wash our hands more. 

Lastly, “What does this mean for all of us?” 

Weirdly enough, this is my favorite question. It means that we all have to band together. In situations like this, you really see people’s humanity or lack thereof. I choose to believe in the human race’s best qualities. I choose to believe that there are people who will go get their grandparent’s groceries. I believe that we will be our brother’s keeper. I believe that we will overcome it. 

United. Together.  

We all want to live, not just survive but in order for us to live we must survive this! Humans are fragile beings and our life can be extinguished in an instant, but do you know what’s our superpowers? Love and hope. They are the only things that are going to get us through this. 

Stay home, stay safe. 

I love you, 

Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

Giveaway Contest: To celebrate 2020, we’re giving away twenty paperback classics featuring Truman Capote, Virginia Woolf, T.S. Eliot, John Steinbeck, Agatha Christie, and others! Won’t this collection look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will choose a random winner on February 29, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck!

[lafiyahenry]

Sunset Set 

[lafiyahenry]

Side Effects of Pressure

Can I be honest with ya’ll? 

Like REALLY honest? 

Whether or not people like it, I will live my truth and tell it as I see fit because that’s the only thing that I can do. I’ve been listening to a lot of Amanda Seales lately and maybe because of that, I have the confidence to write this post. Her podcast “Small Doses” definitely inspired the title of this blog post because she uses it for all the titles of her podcast Eg: Side Effects of Being Difficult etc. I’m tapping into her energy and power to talk about something I’ve had to live with since the day I came out of the womb. You guessed it: Pressure! I’ve had to live with a lot of pressure and it has affected my life in so many negative ways that I never talked about and I feel like now is the time to talk about it. Please keep in mind that I am talking to and about my experiences. I’m sure that many others can attest to it as well. 

My grandfather was the late, great Dr Reverend Lealand Henry. It was because of my grandfather I promised myself to never marry a man who was a pastor. Bear with me here, nothing is wrong with being a pastor, I have no qualms towards people who are pastors or even the church but If you were ever apart of a pastor’s immediate family, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not fun. It’s hard and it affects your family in so many different ways. Growing up, I felt like I was never allowed to be myself. Not really. I couldn’t do the things other kids did, I couldn’t experiment, try new things or find myself the way other kids could. If I made a mistake or did something wrong it was blown out of proportion because of who I was. I would never forget this sentence that was said to me. I can’t even remember what is it I wanted to do but someone told me, “What would the church think?” 

What would the church think?! Years and years later I found myself thinking like that. Obviously, I was unhappy. I felt like my every move was being watched and I hated it. It was hard, to say the least. As I got older, it didn’t get easier. When I did therapy as a kid, the one topic I always talked about was all this pressure I felt coming from every direction in my life. There was not just pressure because I was a pastor’s kid. There was pressure  because of who my family is, and the notions that come along with that. I was a smart child. Brilliant like my father, people said. So, that had to be reflected in my grades. I would bring home a B+ and would be told that I should have gotten an A. 

Eventually, I stopped caring. I stopped caring when I realized the more energy I put into caring about what other people think and constantly having to monitor myself and put myself on a leash, the unhappier I was. I had to put an end to it. I had to stand up for myself because it felt like nobody was standing up for me. So, much to the dismay of my grandparents, I stopped caring. The truth is, I still cared a little bit at that point but I was more myself. I feel like my life really started, you know? I was probably seventeen when I really started doing things that I wanted to do. My grandfather was retired but  I still felt required to things within the church and still uphold this persona that I didn’t want to do or be anymore. 

Earlier this year I came to the place where I wasn’t happy in this certain environment. I wasn’t growing,  I didn’t enjoy doing it anymore, I felt like I was there as an obligation. In my mind, I was doing it because I had to and I had no other choice. I was ready to give it up there and then but my boyfriend encouraged me to see it through. A big thing was happening and I had an important role to play. So essentially I put it off for a couple months. I swallowed how I was feeling and just did my best to be apart of the team. I was miserable!  Reflecting on it now, one of the reasons I completely shut down toward this thing is because they were putting a lot of pressure on me that I did not want. It was like I had to regress back into putting on this persona. A cookie cutter, PG-13 version of myself that felt fake. I couldn’t do this and I couldn’t say that and I couldn’t just be a flawed human like everyone else. I found the courage to let that thing go. There are flames around me, burning down from the impact but I am calm. I am calm and I am free. 

 I see a lot of miserable Pastor’s Kids. I personally do NOT miss being the granddaughter of an active pastor. I see them and I feel for them because I can only imagine what they’ve gone through or are still going through. It isn’t easy when everyone is holding you to a higher standard and it also isn’t fair. My whole life I’ve been regarded as everything else except myself. I’m always introduced as somebody’s daughter, somebody’s granddaughter, somebody’s niece, somebody’s something. I am Lafiya Henry. That’s who I am. None of those other things define me. I’m sending love and compassion to whoever may be going through the struggles. God’s got you. We’re all doing our best out here. 

Love, Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

Doing the Damn Thing!

I think we can all agree that the term “creative” is a tad bit overused at this point. Everywhere you turn there is a “creative” on the corner but I am not saying that to dispute who is or isn’t a creative. I am explaining why I still subscribe to the label. I still label myself as a creative because there isn’t another name to call what it is that I do, which is very simple: create. 

According to the degree that I’m studying, I’m an actress. According to the people that have known me forever, I’m a musician. A pannist. If you ask some people, I’m a dancer and then I’m a writer to some. I’m saying all of this to say that all are correct. I have done/ do all of these things. When I introduce myself, I can’t fit all these things into one sentence so I’d rather just say “creative”. I was recently listening to one of my two favorite podcasts at the moment which is “Recess: Creative Convos”  and this exact thing was discussed. Many artists don’t only just do one thing and honestly I hate when people ask me to label myself or my art. As Lou, one of the founding members of Freetown Collective said, most times people want to to label what it is that you do so they could sell it. I don’t want to label what I do. I don’t think it needs a label. I just want to do what feels right to me. I want to push the boarders of my creativity and see how best I can translate the story that I want to tell, whether it be in videos, through music, or in a play. 

But what a time to be a Creative in Trinidad and Tobago! Is it not? Some amazing things are happening right here on this little island. I have never been more hopeful for our future creative industry. It is because I am hopeful, I feel so inspired to write this as well. If you are an artist in Trinidad and Tobago you know how tough this industry is. You know that a lot of times people don’t see what we do as a respected job and there is this whole narrative about “the struggling artist” because that has been the reality for a very long time but I can see things changing. I see a shift happening, especially coming from my generation. We are tired of the way that things are, we are no longer begging for seats at a table, we’re creating our own. A country like Trinidad and Tobago has soooo much talent that the general public have not taken notice of. For a long time your talent would only be recognized if you were a soca artiste or if your talent was marketable for the Carnival season. Now we have artists like, Erphaan Alves who have been pushing for soca to be released and played year-round, not just three months out of the year. We have artists like Freetown Collective and Jimmy October that don’t have the traditional “soca/ calypso” sound but we love their music and enjoy the hell out of it. Even though it’s so easy to focus on the negatives, there are things starting to go in the right direction. This is not me saying by any degree that our industry is “fixed” or “solved” by a long run, because it isn’t. I’m just grateful to see people who are out here doing the damn things when it comes to our culture and our artform. 

For the last section of this post, I would like to shout out all the Caribbean Creatives who have been doing the damn thing and inspiring me to push on with my art! 

Firstly, Kamron and D’Andre, the hosts of “Recess:Creative Convos”. I find it very ironic that I followed both of them on Instagram even before this podcast aired because the work that they did inspired me and then they came together to create this amazing piece of art that Trinidad desperately needed. I applaud ya’ll! I thank God for ya’ll! Ya’ll are doing the damn thing and I hope that you continue to #TalkDeTings! I intend to go more in-depth about the podcasts that I’ve been listening to so look out for me mentioning them again. 

Alexia James is the host of “Diary of a 20 Somethin’” which is the other favorite podcast that I aforementioned earlier. I am so glad that things like this exist, not only to share information to clueless young adults but to also be reassured that we’re not alone. We are not the only ones going through this Caribbean experience or struggling to find our way in business et cetera. I love that we as Caribbean youths now have these outlets. I will also speak more about this podcast later! 

My first experience with Freetown Collective was in a University of the West Indies lecture hall, for one of the courses called Caribbean Lab. I was doing my Certificate in Theatre in 2016, and seeing them and hearing them speak was like a splash of cold water on my face, waking me up to all the possibilities that a Caribbean artist could be. They were the example I didn’t know I needed. I needed to see people like them doing the damn thing. Creating and not conforming to anything that people thought they should be. I have loved them forever. Thank you for having them on your show Kam & D! 

Other young Caribbean Creatives that have been inspiring me to create, in no particular order whatsoever: 

Coutain, Jimmy October, Omar Jarra, Kriston Koon Koon, Kirk Garner, Luigi Creese, Azariel Pedro, Judah Chrichlow and many others that I may have just forgotten as I am writing this. I love you guys, please keep doing what you are doing. You have no idea the amount of people you’re inspiring by just doing what you do. 

Love, 

Lafiya. 

[lafiyahenry]

A Student Returning to her First Love

I have come to the point of the semester where I am as Over It as Summer Walker’s debut album. I feel this way every semester, I feel depressed and my spirit is depleted. I think about if university is right for me, if I need to take a leave of absence, if I’m as smart as I think I am et cetera. Many of you may know but let me reiterate, I am in the third year of my Bachelor of Fine Arts in the Performing Arts degree and  I am utterly exhausted. 

Do you want to know a secret? 

I want to write books for the rest of my life. I want to be an author. I always have. I remember when I was around eight or nine years old, my grandmother would go out and buy me Enid Blyton books. All I would do is read and read. I read in cars, in church, in school during classes. I remember reading all night till the sun came up. Reading has been one of the greatest joys of my life. So when I was thinking about what I wanted to do when I grew up, of course reading books had to be involved. I quickly realized that people wouldn’t pay me to read books, so instead I decided to write them. 

So, because I’ve always been an avid reader, I’ve also always had an extensive vocabulary and an impressive writing style for my age. I remember when I was doing an exam to take me from Primary School to Secondary School (what we call SEA), my teachers sat me down and told me that I had to dial it back with regards to my Essays. I was writing at a higher level than anyone in my class and the level that I was at was “too much” for the exam. So, I dumbed down my writing and still received full marks for Creative Writing in my exams. 

As I was taken into Secondary School and I grew and developed, my love for music grew as well. I was lucky enough to attend St George’s College where the arts thrived! I also came from a heavily musical background and had been playing an instrument since I was seven years old. I still continued reading and writing a lot. I continued receiving top grades in English Language and Literature. Sometimes I would share my book of short stories with my friends and they would devour them and tell me what they enjoyed. I still wanted to be a writer but it took a backseat to music and theatre. I chose to pursue Music in Secondary School. That’s what I chose to do for exams because I love performing it! I left with an A in my performance for my music exams and a distinction in English so I was very satisfied with that. 

I’m fast forwarding the story a bit, for time sake but, in a nutshell, I wanted to study Theatre in University. I went to the University of West Indies for my Drama/Theatre in Education Certificate and then I began my BFA in University of Trinidad and Tobago. So, professionally, I’m an actress and I’m actually really good at it. The Arts have always been an amazing place for me to thrive because I’ve been naturally gifted. I may continue to act after I’ve finished my degree but I’m more focused on Directing and Play writing. But the honest truth is, If I travel around the world writing books for the rest of my life then I would be satisfied. I would be happy. 

Since I’m nearly at the end of this journey, I have been thinking long and hard about a Masters of Fine Arts Degree. I want to do it. I want to have that level of education just because I can, just because I am able to. What Masters Degree am I going to do, you may ask? Well I thought it would be poetic to do the thing that I first fell in love with, just to bring everything full circle, to go back to my first love. I’m going to do a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing (Fiction). 

Pray for ya girl.