When I landed on St. Croix that memorable spring evening the familiar feeling came over me.
It was the same feeling I felt when I visited during high school basketball tournaments. Imagine stepping into a building lobby to escape the sidewalk’s scorching heat and feeling the AC’s first cool breeze.
This felt better.
Maybe it’s because the architects of my native St. Thomas who forced a modern metropolis – arguably the most cosmopolitan 32 square miles on Earth – onto a mountainous island forgot that at times we need to exhale.
Needless to say, I was looking forward to this current visit filming NiteCap Live at the St. Croix Educational Complex. While soaking it all in, I heard a familiar voice yelling my name.
“Petah! Wha guan my yute!?”, Jermaine, my cinematographer and creative partner exclaimed before giving me daps. A Jamaican by way of Brooklyn, he had been looking forward to this trip since I decided to begin filming the show beyond its Miami roots. “Tell me bro. Where’s that Cruzan rum?!” he barked.
We headed towards the table where the USVI Tourism greeters were and toasted. The complimentary shots of Cruzan rum upon arrival to our airports are a must.
By the time Stalley had arrived me and Jermaine had hit our sweet spot. The sky could have been falling and we’d still be smiling. I had formed a bond with “Fat Boy” aka Rick Ross who asked me if I could feature his Maybach Music artists on NiteCap.
I decided to feature Stalley on NiteCap Live in the VI, because he was one of the few mainstream profanities free positive emcees left before hip hop became overrun by guns and gore.
“Big bro, I appreciate this. This place is really special,” Stalley told me.
I looked around to see if Steve, who education officials sent to pick us up, had circled back around.
He pulled up to the curb and walked towards me, Jermaine and Stalley. After taking their luggage to the car Steve looked at me dumbfounded.
“Nah Pie, wha you tink this is?”, he fumed.
I laughed then grabbed my bags and sat in the passenger seat.
This is home. I should know better.
“Ayu people from St. Thomas really tink ayu so special. Oh, I don’t tink dat window works and hold on tight my boi: these government vehicles are hit or miss,” Steve affirmed to me.
After leaving the airport I gazed out at the horses as we passed the Randall “Doc” James Racetrack before eventually cruising on the Melvin Evans Highway; the surrounding hills and open savannah left me once again consumed by that feeling, now accented by rum.
I can breathe.
“Steve you should tell Stalley about the difference between St. Thomas and St. Croix,” I said, turning towards him.
“Wha you mean, like how ayu Tomians does steal everyting from we?” he fired back.
Jermaine coughed out loud.
I looked in the rear view to see if Stalley and his girlfriend had heard Steve.
“Yes, dat’s right. Tell our lovely visitors how ayu does act like ayu betta than we,” Steve continued, who was now also looking up into the rearview mirror.
I nudged him with my elbow as Jermaine got Stalley and his partner to look at his camera.
“Yeah, buh ayu food is deh bomb,” I fired back.
Steve had finally calmed down when we pulled up to the hotel in Christiansted, but the kumbaya was short lived. Upon checking in the front desk clerk told Stalley shaking her head:
“We’re so happy this event is coming to St. Croix. Those folks on St. Thomas keep everything for themselves.”
Geez. Not again.
“Ma’am thank you so much, but Peter was the one who told me, we have to come to St. Croix,” Stalley answered, sensing my frustration.
The storied divide between St. Croix and St. Thomas is one I’ve always shied away from given my limited knowledge of its origin. At one time there was even a movement of Crucians who wanted to secede from the USVI.
Most recently, while filming Paradise Discovered: The Unbreakable Virgin Islanders 2.0 I had the pleasure of engaging with Chalana Brown, Sydney Paul, Felix London, Sommer Sibilly-Brown and other young Crucian progressives about the root of the age-old divide.
It’s caused me to reflect on that fateful trip back in 2016 and if Steve and the hotel front desk clerk’s words hold weight. In typical VI fashion, after a rocky start myself and Steve formed a genuine bond, making the trip that more memorable as he really helped me to try to see life from a Crucian perspective.
I wonder if I’m a hypocrite in the way I viewed both St. John and St. Croix as a postcard to some degree. St. John was a vacation and St. Croix a place to catch a vibe.
Growing up listening to some of the comments made about St. Croix only furthered the inter-island rift:
Petah, wha I goin Cruz to do!?
The place boring. Dey have to come ova here to do everyting so why we goin ova dere?!
My boi dem folks in Cruz does bun people alive. I good where I is.
But if it’s one ting dat Cruz have is woman mehson!
Even an aerial view of St. Thomas and St. Croix tells on one paradise but two separate tales. The development on St. Thomas is a thing of marvel while a majority of St. Croix’s expansive land mass has been left virtually untouched. On Sundays I’ve seen millennials there fishing with their kids on the Christiansted boardwalk, a pastime rarely or never seen on St. Thomas.
While hosting a brunch with Julius Jackson and Chef Digby Stridiron; Digby described foraging for parts of the menu, marking the first time I heard a Virgin Islander use the ancient term.
In retrospect we Tomians can be very standoffish indeed, having been born and bred in the USVI’s capital and center of commerce, being the face of the territory came with a price. Imagine residing on an island that every dreamer and opportunists frequent in hopes of exploiting leading you to be more guarded as a defense mechanism, essentially more Americanized.
As I see it, St. Croix being an afterthought was a gift and a curse, having existed in obscurity some of that ancestral magic remains, hence the vibe.
Yet, it’s hard to tell a young Crucian coming of age in a modern world to be happy that St. Croix maintained our cultural traditions but lacks development and economic opportunity. Nevertheless, when Hurricane Irma hit in 2017, St. Croix residents sent so much aid to St. Thomas that it left them compromised when Hurricane Maria struck.
Tim Duncan, as usual, stepped in to assist void of much fanfare.
Earlier on in my career, a group of Crucians were among the first strangers to congratulate me on Magic City being published. Throughout our history, St. Croix has always been our cultural lifeline even when we’ve been too proud to notice or celebrate it. After all, those who love us most are the ones we most often take for granted.
So, if St. Thomas is the face of the Virgin Islands, St. Croix is our heart and I’ll be heartbroken if it ever stops beating.
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