What makes the Caribbean if not the Caribbean sea?
A personal piece on the gentrification of Curaçao's authentic beaches.
‘Vamos a la playa oh’ no, no, no….because Curaçao is changing and not necessarily for the better. I have been noticing the destruction, privatization, and/or gentrification of our land for quite some years now. Driving past different construction sites, where time is spent building more houses, resorts and hotels, and simultaneously seeing our historical buildings shamefully being left to rot, became a habitual thing. Now it’s one thing if this was a direct response to the quests of (lower-class) locals who are actually in need of affordable homes, but let’s be honest: what is currently being built & destroyed is not for us. The clear erasure of nature and authentic Curaçaoan buildings is just a capitalist informed agenda, seeping their way through the cracks of our activism and consciousness. So why do we even act surprised. When has capitalism ever valued ecological harmony? When has it ever praised traditional architecture that stems away from profit-driven structures like hotels? When has it ever valued Black people? ​But then again, do we really want our entire Caribbean ecosystem to operate on such systems and values seeing that they are now also coming for our beaches too?
I honestly thought that we were further than that. But I guess not, because our coastal land is literally allowed to be transformed into luxury-style properties. What used to be a free or at least a 50% off leisure experience for locals is now dangerously becoming a white man’s territory. And I am specifically referring to white tourists. Not ‘Yu di Korsou' or local people who happen to be white, but those who exude entitlement, wealth and privilege, inappropriately walking into supermarkets with nothing but a bikini on. Those who refuse to acknowledge that they are in fact the real visitors of Curacao, living out their so-called paradise dreams - as if they are inherently deserving of it - while our government hinders us from having an intimate relationship with the sea.
" When do we put a stop to changing our water sanctuaries into a sea of whiteness? When do we clock what is really happening to our earth spaces?"
But when do we say enough is enough? When do we put a stop to changing our water sanctuaries into a sea of whiteness? When will we see our coastal land as natural treasures and local dream spaces? And most importantly, when do we clock what is really happening to our earth spaces? Because having to pay an entrance fee for what is essentially not even manmade is truly crazy work.
There is a political answer waiting for you at the shores, but my answer is rooted in much more than what meets the eye. As such, when we zoom out and take a look at Curaçao from a geographical point of view, we’ll notice that the Caribbean sea is what physically creates a distance between the Netherlands and Curaçao. It is what divides us from the rest of the world. But if we do not have access to what essentially separates us from our historic oppressors, why do we have the audacity to think that colonialism is over?
Now I do believe that tourism generates substantial economic benefits, but there is an ethical way to go about it and the gentrification of our coastal land should have no part in it. If all, it comes with several costs that disproportionately affect locals and/or minority groups. From the loss of small business owners and affordable leisure spaces to perpetuating segregation on land that is already divided enough.
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"Gentrification is essentially based on catering our ecosystem to whiteness and white capital. But where does that leave us?"
The disappointing truth is that some of us still believe that the government has our best interests at heart religiously supporting their tourism plans. And maybe some deliver up to par, but if we truly listen to the echoes of our past, we realize that it is really our future that is trying to point out our own lack of self-worth, appreciation and Caribbean pride. And I mean all those three in the truest, most active sense. Not in the form of decorative, performative and stereotypical forms of expressions - but the ones where our identities are expressed through love as verbs and our sea’s are preserved by honoring it as ancestral property.
I know that the point of self worth may seem to be far fetched in relation to this topic, but when we stand still and hold ourselves accountable, we will eventually see how the gentrification of our beaches is essentially based on catering our ecosystem to whiteness and white capital. It suggests that we must place our white affluent counterparts and their architecture above us. That we must place foreigners in a superior, more dreamlike position by awarding them with our leisure spaces. But where does that leave us? What does that bring us, if not a transactional relationship with nature, leisure and rest and a probable identity crisis?
Because physiographically, the Caribbean region is surrounded by the Caribbean Sea, Curaçao included. So if our access is restricted to what essentially makes the Caribbean, Caribbean, what makes that of us? What imprint does that leave on our identities that are so deeply tied to the Caribbean sea? From spending Sundays at Caracasbaai or floating in the waters of playa Jeremi - our beach traditions are rooted in joy and community. The sea was our gateway to rest. Why must we pay to engage with mundane sanctuaries? Why must we pay to experience ecological and environmental softness?
"Our beach traditions are rooted in joy and community (...) A place that enabled friendships, solitude, laughter, play, exhales and relaxation. So this is essentially an act of pure violence, stripping us from what we all need most."
Caribbean life is hard enough as if. I know that many tourists are blinded by the myths of paradise but we too struggle, overwork, and try to make ends meet. Hustle culture is very much alive here. The sea was, however, a place where we’d gather and wash our worries away for free. A place that enabled friendships, solitude, laughter, play, exhales and relaxation. So as a visual researcher of rest, I can’t help but state that the gentrification of our beaches is essentially an act of pure violence, stripping us from what we all need most; rest. Without this glory of life, aren’t we basically still enslaved - laying the cement, building the hotels, serving the food, and entertaining white folks with jet skis and banana boat rides?
I’ll leave that answer in your hands. All I know is that the commodification and diminishment of everything that is ours, of Caribbean life, of nature is extremely painful and exhaustive. But you must know one thing, it is something that is entirely artificial. Putting a price on something that is bigger than us, is a created issue that doesn’t have to exist. It’s all in our hands, the white sand and blue waving future is ours to shape. So questions like ‘Why must we pay to enjoy the earth? To wash our sins? To swim in joy? To indulge near the sea?’ are essentially seeds waiting to be transformed into the all that’s needed to activate and mobilize our birthright, better described as a joyous and intimate relationship with nature.
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May this be your calling. May we come to our senses.
Things you can do!
Share & let your voices be heard!
You are not asking for too much.
