Musings

Recap: Blogging While Brown Conference 2011

July 13, 2011

I met these dope ladies at Blogging While Brown: (L to R) Renae Bluitt of In Her Shoes Blog, Luvvie Ajayi of Awesomely Luvvie, and Marie Denee of The Curvy Fashionista)

I’m baaaaaack! And while I’m exhausted, sunburned and temporarily stuck in a cross-country time warp continuum, it was all worth it. Blogging While Brown was the most inspiring conference I’ve ever been to (and I’ve been to a lot – ya’ll know Black people like conferences. It was #6 on the infamous list of Stuff Educated Black People Like.) But this one was different. It made me want to be better. And do better. And listen. And take notes that I would actually read and implement in my business plan at a later date. And actually make the aforementioned business plan.

Though there are countless moments that I could tell you about, I’ve condensed my experience into 6 of my most memorable moments from my weekend in Los Angeles.

1. My Inaugural Ride in a Convertible

I say inaugural because this is not the last time you will see me in one. It’s official. I’m hooked. I’ve already started crafting the inevitable argument with my future husband as to why a vintage chameleon-painted 1959 Cadillac convertible with rims and hydraulics a la Snoop Dogg is an investment in the futures of our children. It’s not even a celebrity “look at me” feeling that you get when riding because A) Unlike New York, there are plenty of convertibles driving around and B) I was in a Mitsubishi. I mean really. But there’s this rush of adrenaline you get the first time you hit the highway with the sun beaming down on your shoulders and nothing between you and the world but a windshield. It did for me what motorcycles do for most men, without the whole out of control speeding, pop a wheelie on the freeway impending death foolishness.

2. Manhattan Beach

I expected to be greeted by a sea of bleach blond, cosmetically crafted Barbies bouncing around the beach hoping to land their next spot as an extra in some random film but I was pleasantly surprised by the laid-back vibe of this pristine beach. Before setting up camp on the dunes, I checked out the Aquarium and Cafe at the end of the pier, where all the marine homies chill out in their shady little tanks and stare out at the grimy fingers of kids plastered against their respective windows. In the ocean below, surfers laid stomach down on their boards waiting for the next “big one” to stand up and ride into the nearby shore. It was the perfect place to unwind from my cross-country trek and reflect on all of the blessings that got me to Los Angeles in the first place.

3. A Crash Course in Innovation

 

 

 

 

 

So, don’t even ask me why I’m an Art Director and went to LA with not a single business card for my brand. Just go ahead. Throw tomatoes. Slap me on the wrist. It was a prior planning fail. But since I had never been to this conference before before, I didn’t think it was a big deal…until I got to Game Night on Friday and every single conversation ended with “Do you have a card?”

*face palms* OMG!! Everybody has a card but me!! And these weren’t some raggedy generic Kinkos cards. These were shiny custom designs with rounded corners, metallic inks, and QR codes. The last person who asked me for a card was Divas and Dorks publisher Christen Rochon, and I replied “No, but I’ll have one tomorrow.”

I suppose 7 years in advertising served me well that evening because my creative juices immediately kicked into high gear, trying to think of something I could do in 12 hours that would leave a lasting and professional impression. The resulting tags were a huge success and well worth my risking being arrested by the TSA for stalking the luggage tag bins at 5 busy airline counters in Terminal 6 (adrenaline is a helluva drug).

4. The Blogging While Brown Technology Keynote

Have you ever been in church and felt like the preacher was all up in your mind? Speaking directly to your situation like he had a little talk with Jesus about your personal shenanigans right before church? Well I was ready to do a praise dance right there in the Marriott because Scott Hanselman and his co-pastor Adria Richards were preaching a good word about Information Overload Online. They taught us about psychic weight (your mental to-do list that interferes with productivity), triaging your inbox, internal and external interruptions and scheduling work sprints. According to Hanselman, Usain Bolt can’t break records while tweeting so he encouraged us to stop trying to multitask (i.e. Twitter + FB + Google Reader + Email +  Texts + GChat, + Voicemail + Tivo + Anything That Doesn’t Make You Money) and focus on our goals. You. Betta. PREACH Scott! *waves church fan*

5. Random Encounters in a Virtual Reality Vortex

In the world of social media, often times you have no idea who the people are behind the blogs you read on a daily basis. And rarely are these writers identified by their government names. So this weekend was like swallowing the blue pill and being sucked into the Black social media matrix. When @luvveig (whose real name I still don’t know) walked into the game night on Friday I had to laugh because she looked like a walking breathing version of her Twitter cartoon avatar. At lunch I sat next to the creator of Me, My Hair, and the City who turned out to be the organizer of a major hair event in Atlanta, who knew me from Curly Girl Collective here in New York. When I spoke with her about my interest in writing professionally, she casually mentioned to me that I was sitting right next to the Deputy Editor of TheRoot.com, encouraging me to seize the opportunity (which I did:). These are the types of random connections that happen at Blogging While Brown and the #1 reason why I plan to attend next year. You never know how the people around you can have a positive influence on your side hustle and help catapult it to a career.

6. Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles

LAWDAMERCY!!!!! Why nobody warned me? I mean for real? Ya’ll just let me wander up in there unprepared for His goodness and mercy smothered in the most incomprehensibly foodgasmic butter and syrup I’ve ever tasted. One forkful of this delectable creation and I was prepared to miss my flight back to New York just to savor each morsel. I’m convinced the chicken was prepared by an old woman named Bessie from the back woods of Georgia who still wears a jheri curl and sings old Negro spirituals while she cooks because AIN’T NO WAY somebody born in California can make friend chicken like that! I inhaled my 2 pieces chicken so fast that my brain didn’t get a chance to register that I was full, so I ordered an extra leg to go, which my waitress wrapped in foil for me to take on the plane. Any establishment that allows it’s customers to wrap their food in foil to go is my kind of place and even if I never get to go back in this lifetime, I’m positive that Roscoe’s has a booth at the breakfast buffet in Heaven.

Stay tuned for my next post about the best experience of the entire weekend – my bucket list adventure along the Pacific Coast Highway. For more photos from Blogging While Brown check out the photo gallery on Facebook.

Musings

Thanks for Voting!

July 10, 2011

So, before my wall starts getting inundated with congratulatory messages on Facebook let me first say the winners have not even been announced yet 🙂 The Black Weblog Awards will be announced for the first time live tonight here in LA and I will be in attendance. But you see, that’s the source of this post’s inspiration. I, the new travel blogger who finally took her writing seriously in December 2010 and took a chance by sharing it with the public, am a now nominee at the 2011 Black Weblog Awards!

OMG!!! Its like all finally hitting me now that I’m here. And saying I’m grateful to be here would be a travesty of verbal injustice. I’m kind of overwhelmed. Because once you are exposed to greatness you have no choice but to strive to become a part of it. From the sheer hilarity of Awesomely Luvvie (if you haven’t visited dumbesttweets.tumblr.com, it will give you life) to the soulful spirit of our keynote speaker Angel Laws, founder of Concrete Loop, the people I have met in the past 24 hours have inspired me to do even bigger and better things.

But I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the voices. No, I’m not crazy or schizophrenic (though the former is arguable.) I’ve been hearing voices for almost a decade now. At first they sounded like they were just playing with my emotions but eventually they tried to get all serious on me talking about “Tracey you should seriously write, like for real. *serious face* Seriously.” Then the voices hit the world wide web and would show up in my inbox, bearing all caps and exclamation points

“OMG your recap from Vegas was hilarious!! I sent it to my sister’s, mother’s, auntie’s boyfriend’s, play cousin-in-law’s boss and he was crying laughing!! Girl, you need to do something with this. SERIOUSLY!!!” 

After I started this blog, the voices took to the comments section, often times anonymously, expressing heartfelt gratitude for sharing my experiences and letting the world know about the beautiful light that emanates from the people of cultures that are so often misconstrued as dark and undesirable. These voices almost got me here to Los Angeles. Almost.

Then there was one last voice. The one of my sister, who pushed me to come out here when I had no intentions of attending, reminding me of a saying our grandmother used to tell us when we were little. “You should totally go!” she exclaimed. I responded “Why?” and before I could go into my litany of reasons why I wasn’t about to book a flight she interrupted, “Why not you?” Our grandmother always said that whenever we thought we weren’t good enough for any accolade, honor or anything good in life. Whenever we’d ask her “Who me?” she’d always reply “Why not you?”

Grandma in Astoria, Queens circa 1980-something

So in my grandmother’s honor, I’m here. And tonight, I will put on my fancy new dress, sit up straight like she would have wanted (I slouched a lot as a teen lol) and sit amongst the sea of nominees, writers, journalists, authors, entrepreneurs, and actresses that will make up tonight’s audience. I will smile. I will cheer. I will take pictures and get excited and if my name is called, I may very well bust out into spontaneous Cabbage Patch. But regardless of what names are called tonight at the awards, I have already won in coming this far so soon. Thank you to everyone who helped make this happen and get ready for even bigger things in 2012!

Brooklyn

5 Reasons to Fall in Love with Brooklyn

June 27, 2011

When I first moved to Brooklyn, I had no idea I’d fall in love. It kind of took me by surprise, as love often does, sweeping me off my feet and totally derailing all plans I had for myself for the years to come. I was only supposed to be in NY for a year or 2, and after a brief fling with Jamaica, Queens and Harlem, I was unimpressed and at any given time could have moved back to Atlanta where I would start a family with 2.5 kids, a dog and the megachurch of my choice.

However, Brooklyn had other plans for me. It had watched me from afar, in relationships with Tallahassee and Decatur, and took notes on the failures and pitfalls of my previous geographic suitors. And to be honest, during the first few months of our relationship, I wasn’t really feeling Brooklyn like that. My Prospect Heights neighborhood was still suffering the growing pains of gentrification, and it was a brutally cold winter punctuated by heat and hot water outages in my newly renovated apartment building. But as soon as summer hit, Brooklyn wrapped me up in its organic, soulful arms holding me so close to it’s heart that I realized its rhythm was in perfect sync with my own.

This past weekend two of my close friends came to visit me from Florida, and though they have been to New York a number times, they have never properly met this new love of mine. This time I decided to show them the reasons why I could quite possibly stay wrapped up in Brooklyn’s arms forever.

stoopBrooklyn

REASON #5: STOOPS

Whether you’ve lived in New York or not, I’m sure you’ve seen a stoop if not anywhere else but the Cosby Show (which was ironically filmed in Greenwich Village, not Brooklyn.) Stoops are magical gathering places where secrets are told, relationships are formed and Musiq Soulchild videos are recorded. Brooklyn residents both young, old, rich, poor, red and yellow, black and white all gather outside on these concrete living rooms during the summer months to enjoy the warmth we all long for 9 months a year. It is a place of peaceful relaxation in the bustling jungle of this city, and a charming landmark of the Brooklyn community.

DadAndBrooklyn

REASON #4: PARKS

Before you even say it, yes, there are parks everywhere in New York. Central Park has for decades been the setting of countless adventures for the likes of the Carrie Bradshaws and Miranda Priestleys of the city. However, if you’d rather wear flip flops than Manolo Blahniks and don’t mind the the old Woodstock reject playing his guitar near your blanket, a park in Brooklyn is the place to rest your weary feet after week of pounding the Manhattan pavement. While my friends were in town, I organized a brunch picnic in Brooklyn Bridge Park, which was also my first time seeing the park since its recent renovation. The view of the Brooklyn Bridge was breathtaking and the breeze off the river made the hot summer afternoon pleasantly bearable. I’m definitely adding this to my list of Sunday getaways in Brooklyn and outside of this post, will not tell a soul about it lest it become overrun like my beloved Habana Outpost (RIP).

bkrooftopsREASON #3: ROOFTOPS

There is nothing like a Brooklyn rooftop. Period. You can try to convince me otherwise but I have yet to see the same level of skyline splendor from anywhere else besides Brooklyn. The Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges have a regal beauty when lit at night and the backdrop of the Financial District is absolutely gorgeous at sunset. My friend whose wedding I wrote about hosted a lovely, intimate Spring Fete on her rooftop in our Prospect Heights neighborhood, featuring a full service ice cream bar, vintage popcorn boxes, and a slideshow of her official wedding photos. It was a perfect combination of laughter, wine, friendship and love all overlooking the best borough in the city (yes, I’m biased. Get used to it 🙂

porchetta

REASON #2: FLEA MARKETS

I love a bargain. I also love randomness. Brooklyn flea markets always have an abundance of both. From those that I stumble upon in parking lots and on stoops to the more organized type that are at a specific location every week, the flea markets in Brooklyn are always great places to find one-of-a-kind fashion that will avoid you having an H&M twin at your next summer next gathering. Since we had an absolutely gorgeous Saturday that weekend, I took my friends to the popular Brooklyn Flea market at the corner of Vanderbilt and Lafayette avenues. This market boasts both fashion and food, two of my favorite things in life, as well as artwork, collectibles and the best pork sandwich I’ve ever had. (Porchetta will bless your soul. It’s the Puerto Rican Day Parade on a bun.)

afropunkBrooklynStyle

REASON #1: THE PEOPLE

I’ve gotten into many a discussion (ahem, shouting match) with friends, standing firm in my opinion that Brooklyn is better than (fill-in-the-blank-with-your-borough-that-can’t-touch-mine) but in all honesty, there is a unique charm to each and every neighborhood in the city. And there are elements I love about each one – from the jazzy gentrification of West Harlem to the 150 different languages spoken in the streets of Queens. However, there is an energy within the people of Brooklyn that makes this love affair much more electric than I could have ever expected. There is an audible heartbeat in Brooklyn and the people are its pulse. I hear it every night in the laughter of the Dominican kids playing on my block every night, punctuated by the Bachata music blaring from the corner bodega. Up the street the dollar store’s Soca mix is in competition with Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind blasting from the Escalade parked in front of the store but neither the car owner nor store owner seem to mind, because it is all a part of the same heartbeat.

This community’s stoops, rooftops, parks and people have courted me past the infatuation phase, and we are comfortably coasting in that ever-elusive long haul only attainable by true love. I hope Brooklyn treats me right and keeps the fire going in this wonderful relationship because little does it know, I’m not going anywhere.

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Click here for more photos from our weekend in Brooklyn
Travel

My Adventure With the Parents on Daufuskie Island

June 24, 2011

I’ll be honest. I didn’t really wanna go. My Mom rolled up on me at like 7 AM while I was still under the covers just like she always does when I’m home, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed announcing, “We’re gonna take you to Daufuskie tomorrow!”

My first thought (after mentally reminding myself to lock the door the next night) was, why? Isn’t it like, old and country and boring? Why would I wanna do that when I can lay out on the beach at Hilton Head for the 4th day in a row and get my fourth shade of chocolate wonder on? Because that’s really all I want to do when I’m on vacation. Lay on the beach with a beverage, a magazine and my iPod. However, the main reason why I decided against some posh all-inclusive resort at a tropical destination as my summer vacation is because I wanted to spend some quality time with my parents in South Carolina. So I replied, “Great!” and packed my little bag for our day trip first thing the next morning.

On the ferry ride down the Intercoastal Waterway to Daufuskie Island, the history that our guide spoke about was both comforting and disturbing. We passed several plantations where sprawling summer homes with large white columns and guest houses next door had been erected. The native South Carolinian in me wasn’t shocked by the fact that they were still called plantations but the all-grown-up-now New York rebellious Tracey was like “Seriously?? Why is it okay to call them plantations? Do they not realize what happened there? This is insane! Can anybody hear me? Is this thing on??”

But instead of leading a slave uprising with the sprinkling of other Black tourists on the boat, I just sat quietly and took in the historic charm of the landscape that still characterizes the Carolina lowcountry.

When my Dad said we would be renting a golf cart for the day I kinda thought he was joking or that there was some sort of golf course we’d be on but um, no. These are what people ride on around the island. There are only 400 residents and visitors are not allowed to bring cars on the island. I suspect to avoid further contributions to their traffic problem.
“Traffic problem”

We stopped by a few landmarks including an old schoolhouse for Black children called the Mary Fields School, and the First Union African Baptist Church. My favorite landmark, however, was not listed on the map that we had been holding onto for dear life since we stepped off the ferry. From the road it looked like an old country store so we parked the golf cart under a tree and checked it out. After walking up the creaky steps onto the dusty front porch, we were greeted by a sign on the front door that let visitors know that while was nobody was inside, anything they cared to purchase was right there in the “outdoor gallery” where we were standing (the porch). The owner simply asked that customers leave their payment under the door, or a phone number so they could call for credit card processing.

No really. Not joking. And people actually did it. I read the guestbook and there were notes from people saying what they had purchased and how much money they had left. I was floored that this type of culture still existed! The honor system? Really? If I pulled one of these in Brooklyn I’d end up in handcuffs and the only note I’d be writing is a plea for bail money.

After a few minutes I noticed that there was indeed someone at the house. A young guy was on the side of the house carving a new piece of art out of what looked like iron scraps. I started to say something to him but after watching him for a few seconds I totally understood why people live on Daufuskie. They love the seclusion and quiet comfort that characterizes the island. There isn’t a single grocery store there and I’d put money on there not being a bar, movie theatre, restaurant, lounge or any other type of social setting either. And that’s just fine. Because the peace they attain in exchange for these social luxuries is priceless and warrants a few sacrifices of convenience.

Instead of inundating the guy with 500 questions about his craft, I said nothing, stopped taking pictures and sat in silence on the porch as he worked in the summer rain that had begun to fall. My mother rocked in an old rocking chair while my Dad struck up a conversation with another family that had wandered up from the road seeking shelter from the rain. The rest of the afternoon was similar. We sat. We waved at strangers. We wandered around semi-almost lost on our golf cart and chatted about things that don’t matter from 9-5. And it took a while for me to realize that even though I could never live there, moments like these are important to bring down the volume on life so you can hear what the trees, the birds, and your parents are trying to say to you.

Reviews

A Fork-Licking Feast in the Carolina Lowcountry

June 22, 2011

The South has some of the best food in the entire country. Period. You can fight me on that if you want to, but I’ll send you to New Orleans or one of those hole-in-the wall “We ain’t got no mo’ yams baby what else you want?” restaurants in Georgia and make a believer out of you. Soul food is named so for a reason. There is a rich tradition, sweat equity and some elbow grease folded into each morsel of food that makes each dish more robust than the average American fare. So when I read this passage from the menu at Roasfish and Cornbread, I knew I was in for a treat.

“I was born in the Low Country. I was raised in My Great-Grandmother’s Gullah kitchen. The recipes were not written but the flavor was etched on my tongue like hieroglyphics on papyrus paper.”

These heartfelt words from Chef David immediately piqued my curiosity about this new restaurant that my mother had read about in a local paper that morning. This wasn’t just some new business venture from a culinary school wannabe. This man had a passion for food and as I looked over the menu, I had a feeling that his passion was about to be translated into a party in my belly.

My first sip of the sweet tea was diabetically sweet with a tinge of lemon, assuring me that we had found ourselves an authentic southern restaurant. For the appetizers, my Dad selected the Alligator since I had never really had it, and I chose the Conch Fritters. Both dishes met a swift death as we devoured the perfect blends of lowcountry seasoning and fresh seafood.  The alligator was not tough or fishy as I’ve experienced in the past, and the conch fritters had actual recognizable pieces of (wait for it) conch inside. Call me crazy but quite often restaurants add a lot of filler (bread crumbs, corn meal, randomness) in the fritter and leave you searching for the meat.

Port Royal Platter

For our main courses I chose to go for the dish with the most options to try different things: The Port Royal Platter. This feast included blackened tilapia, shrimp, scallops, a crab cake and oysters as well as my choice of two sides, mine being their popular collard greens and signature Sweet Potato Cornbread. My Mom ordered the Whole Roasted Flounder and my Dad got the Grilled Tilapia. We completed our order with an extra side of lowcountry rice and agreed to share everything.

Until I tasted the first bite of my blackened shrimp, at which point I wanted to build an electric fence around my plate to discourage wandering hands and forks. Blackenening seafood is a skill that is mastered by few and far too often ends up overcooked or some sad BBQ knockoff. The seafood on my plate made me want to get up and do the cabbage patch right there at our wooden picnic table on the terrace (but I refrained because the man who taught my etiquette classes in high school lives in SC and would be devastated if he saw me). The seasoning was just spicy enough to satisfy my Louisiana heritage and the seafood was perfectly cooked and served piping hot. The collard greens weren’t greasy or overloaded with hog maws and such (what is a maw anyway?), but extremely flavorful and accented by sundried tomatoes that had soaked up all the savory pot liquor.

Just when I was ready to calm down and eat like I had home training, I tasted the Sweet Potato Cornbread. As I took my first bite I heard my tastebuds cue the Electric Slide, and every single one of them got up off their chairs and hit the dance floor for a full fledged house party in my mouth. It was like Sweet Potato Pie meets Jiffy meets Madea. Huge chunks of sweet potato, hints of cinnamon, and brown sugar complimented the savory spice of my seafood and officially took my plate from a 9 to a 47 on a scale from 1 to 10. My plate was Finger Licking, Run-Tell-That, I’d Like To Thank The Academy Good and the only thing that kept me from inhaling the entire thing was wanting to have more the next day.

RIP Roast Flounder

I had a forkful of my mom’s Whole Roast Flounder but as you can see it didn’t last very long. And Dad’s Grilled Tilapia had done a disappearing act by the time I came up for air from my own plate. Our only regret from the evening was not finding the restaurant sooner. We used Yelp and Trip Advisor to choose our restaurants throughout our week’s stay on the island and if it had not been listed in one of those random papers only mothers read, we would have never discovered it.

Chef David Young dishes up a plate with volunteer chef Lynn Hicks during a culinary festival in Bluffton.

After I finish this review, I plan to head over to every major restaurant portal to let lowcountry residents as well as seasonal visitors know that before you try any other restaurant in Hilton Head, check out Roastfish and Cornbread first. Chef David will not disappoint you and I promise the flavor of whatever you order will be etched on your tongue like hieroglyphics on papyrus paper, hopefully prompting a repeat visit like the table of 10 behind us that day and hopefully a review of your own.

Travel

Jamaica Medical Outreach Diary: Part 3

June 16, 2011

My two youngest patients of the day kind of rolled up on me like they had a secret. And very little time to relay their message. They looked like little mafia messengers, standing right inside the boundaries of my comfort zone and looking dead into my eyes to make sure I was paying attention to what they had to say. The two little girls first pointed at their stomachs, indicating some sort of pain or digestive distress. Before I had a chance to write down their first symptom, the little one pointed to her head. I thought it was so sad that she had so many issues at one time but I thought nothing of it until the other one pointed to her leg, showing me some barely visible but apparently painful gash in her tender knee. They were mumbling in patois so I couldn’t pick up everything they said but something was starting to seem odd about their litany of ailments. Our nurse, Mrs. Keen, must have seen the perplexed look on my face so she took me aside to explain this disease that she apparently had years of experience diagnosing. She told me that nothing was wrong with the children. I peeked out at them from the back room where we were standing and they looked worried, as if they knew their mafia code had been cracked.

“But Mrs. Keen, I think they have some sort of gastrointestinal issue because they said”
“They are fine,” she interrupted, “They are telling you things are wrong with them so that they will have medicine when they need it. Their mother probably sent them here to collect for the family.”

After a few seconds of watching the children from afar, I picked my heart up off the floor and walked back over to my clever little friends. Despite my devastation at their situation, I gave them the biggest smile I could muster up and with permission from Mrs. Keen, gathered as many samples of over-the-counter medication I could give them. They happily took the bags and I hugged them goodbye, looked directly into their gorgeous little brown eyes and said “You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” ending my sentence with a wink, letting them know their secret was safe with me. They smiled and ran off with their bag of loot and I prayed that it would last until the next mission arrived.

But can you imagine that? Having to hoard medicine? Or sending your kids to lie to doctors so that when something actually is wrong with them you can help them? Here in America we are fortunate in ways we don’t even realize and raise all kinds of hell about a healthcare system that allows us to go to the emergency room for anything we feel like calling an emergency. The patients I saw that day never once complained. I had a man whose blood pressure was so high I had to have a doctor re-test it for me because I couldn’t believe it.  But his massive heart was so filled with pride at the young Black student that had come all the way to treat his condition he couldn’t help but smile. There was a woman with sky high blood sugar whose feet were so swollen I was amazed at the fact that she was able to walk up the rocky mountain road to our clinic. But when I asked the customary first question in triage, “How are you feeling today?” she said “Me alright”.

Me alright? No! You are not alright! You could go into a diabetic coma at any given second, ma’am and you need insulin, like right now. I was simultaneously amazed and frustrated at the ability of the Jamaican citizens to withstand pain, and even more impressed with their calm attitudes about their health problems. Here in America we leave work with a headache or menstrual cramps. Yet in some countries there are people walking around with migraines and pregnancy contractions that are 10 times as bad as any pain we would allow ourselves to feel before heading to CVS for immediate relief.

America is a prosperous land of milk and honey where we have access to so many luxuries. From pain relievers and cough syrup to heart medication and diabetic supplies, we have an abundance of medical care at our fingertips. However, we can do so much more to help people who are less fortunate than we are. My goal in writing about my experience in Jamaica is to encourage people to either participate in these types of outreach programs or support them. You don’t have to be a doctor or nurse. If you know a pharmaceutical rep, ask them for medication samples to donate. If you know a doctor in private practice, ask for a donation of stethescopes, blood pressure machines, and diabetic testing kits. And most importantly, if you know of a student interested in medicine, encourage them to apply for a program where they can heal the wounds of people who need it most. That student could eventually become the type of doctor like Dr. Keen who leads these types of missions that are so desperately needed and change more lives than they could ever imagine.

For more information on the International Medical Outreach program please visit their website or contact Stephanie Ureña. Click here for more options on medical missions around the country.

 
Click here to see more photos from the trip