Not Caribbean Enough? Let’s Talk About It

There’s something that honestly burns me every time I hear it:"You’re not Caribbean enough."

And it makes me wonder why is it that Caribbean people sometimes feel the need to decipher what’s “Caribbean enough”? You don’t often see people in other cultures constantly questioning each other’s identity just because they grew up somewhere different. Their identity is understood as something that travels with them. So why do we sometimes make it harder on our own people?

Every time someone says that, I feel this need to set the record straight not just for myself, but for so many of us who grew up in the diaspora.

Here’s a quick history lesson about me.

Both of my parents are from St. Lucia. I was born in New York, but after my parents separated, I grew up in Louisiana. Even though I didn’t spend every day of my childhood on the island, St. Lucia was always a part of my life. As a toddler, I traveled back and forth. I even attended school there for a time at Ave Maria School. Those experiences shaped me more than people realize.

So yes, I can confidently say:I am very much Caribbean and proud of it.

I didn’t grow up like the average American, and that’s something I carry with pride. My childhood was filled with Caribbean traditions, values, and little moments that only make sense if you grew up in a Caribbean household.

Like being told to never wear outside clothes in the house. Like ginger and lemon being the cure to just about every sickness. Like if you spoke back to your parents that somehow felt like a death sentence. Like the unwritten competition of taking meat from the one pot because somehow, that really is a sport of its own. Like growing up surrounded by Caribbean cuisines, flavors, and the warmth of a culture that teaches you resilience, respect, and community.

Truth be told, I didn’t fully realize how deep my connection to my Caribbean identity was until I moved back to New York. After all, New York really is the melting pot. Being surrounded by so many cultures and so many Caribbean people made me reflect on who I am and where I come from.

There was a time in my life when I thought I might never set foot on St. Lucian soil again. That feeling came after one of the hardest seasons of my life when my mom passed away. Then, just six months later, my beloved grandmother passed too. I truly believe she was heartbroken after losing my mama. Losing them both made the connection to home feel fragile, like something that might slip away.

But life has a way of bringing you back to yourself.

Now that I’m older, I can’t even imagine not going to St. Lucia every year especially during Carnival. That energy, that music, that sense of belonging it reminds me that home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling that lives inside you.

I’m also starting to realize that when you connect with other Caribbean people, you see something powerful:we are all the same just different fonts.

Different islands. Different accents. Different foods.But the same pride. The same culture. The same rhythm.

And speaking of rhythm my love for Caribbean music and dance runs deep.

Thank you to my dad for my love of music. He is the king of putting me on to all the tunes. I know so much old-school soca simply because I was always around it. The music was always playing, always teaching me something, always making me move.

And shoutout to my mama for putting me in my first set of dance classes. She saw the fire in me from the very beginning.

And don’t play because my waistline is something serious.But for real, dance became another way for me to express my culture, my joy, and my confidence.

Being Caribbean isn’t just about where you were born. It’s about what lives in you your upbringing, your culture, your memories, your family, and your pride.

So when someone questions whether I’m “Caribbean enough,” I remind myself that identity isn’t something anyone else gets to measure.

Being Caribbean is such a flex. It’s a heritage rooted in strength, tradition, and love.

And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

xoxo Twiggy