Adam (Jamaica, Barbados, Bahamas)
When I was younger I didn’t fully know what “Batty Boy” meant, but I knew I didn’t want to be one, even though I felt different. I felt like it was safer for me to be quiet and queer than to pretend to be straight and Caribbean. Once I fully grasped what the song meant, it was the beginning of the end of my trying to live a double life.
A lot of the riddims, beats, and background of “Boom Bye Bye” and other classic reggae songs are woven into modern electronic music, like that of Major Lazer. I actually took my dad to a Major Lazer show and he loved it. At one point, they played a remixed version of “Boom Bye Bye.” He looked at me and I looked at him and we just kind of laughed, because it was a growing point for us. Before I was really taunted about this thing, but then I realized in the midst of that he had grown. And my family had grown because I had to teach them about my queerness. For a while it wasn’t okay, but I had to come to terms with that. Music can be a healer, but it can also be damaging based on the message.
Delbert (Antigua and Barbuda)
I used to always hear the song, either directed at me, which was 70 percent of the time, or in passing while walking down the street. It was a reinforcement of the realities of being queer and Caribbean; it says that what I was doing was wrong and that I will get killed for it. That caused me to withdraw from my community, because my sexuality colored the way that they saw me and the way I saw myself. It got to the point where I actively denied being West Indian until I was in college.
It took time to unlearn those harmful, internalized stereotypes, especially growing up, where you don’t necessarily see anybody like you. Getting involved with the Caribbean Equality Project and eventually becoming part of the leadership there definitely helped affirm my place. It allowed me to be both at the same time.
Buju has since renounced the song. He doesn’t perform it, he doesn’t pay it any mind outside of the fact that he came from crossover acclaim. As a community, how do you move on with him? We need to examine ourselves and examine what it means to be Caribbean. What does it mean to be queer and Caribbean? How can we all coexist with one another? These are the questions that I don’t think anybody really wants to answer. It’s hard for us, because the burden falls on us to initiate and educate when you have a very resistant group of people to talk to.
Robert (Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica)
Khadieme (Jamaica)
Hosts of the Stush An’ Bush podcast
Robert: In the second episode of our podcast, we talk about the song and the larger role of music on our culture.
I’ve always thought about culture in relationship to change and what the connection between the two might look like. I really do believe that music is a way of encapsulating and preserving culture, but what does a song like “Boom Bye Bye” say about Jamaican and Caribbean culture as a whole?
Khadieme: There is a difference between how safety is perceived by someone who is queer in the U.S. and someone in the Caribbean. Even in Caribbean enclaves in the U.S., there are still other things to consider. If I’m walking down the street and I’m visibly queer, if I’m called a derogatory name here in New York, I can report it to the New York City Commission on Human Rights.
As someone who grew up in Jamaica and New York City, I think a lot about whether queerness would be such a focal point of my life had I grown up in Jamaica longer. I think time spent in the U.S. is a key factor for me, because today, I’m seeing a queer resilience in Jamaica and the Caribbean that I didn’t see growing up. All I knew then was death and violence. Today, I see people from Jamaica fighting the homophobia this song embodied.
Interviews have been condensed and edited for clarity.
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