The In-Between

Today was good and bad and sort of in-between.

The good: Alison from the Library Freedom Project got me out of 4th & 5th period today with a super clutch assembly.

The bad: At said assembly, Princeton High was sufficiently embarrassed by the omnipresent vocal minority. Once again.

The in-between: I wasn’t surprised. Just unimpressed.

For those of you who decided to skip the assembly and have only heard about its contents in passing, allow me to briefly fill you in: The NSA is watching us, they always have been, always will be. The only difference is that now we’re being watched by the Trump administration and they hate 1/2 of us. Alison was giving us tips on how to protect ourselves online, how to protect ourselves during a protest, what our rights are and how to get away with watching Netflix in school. Pretty nice intel if you ask me.

She also managed to point out white privilege on several occasions- so yeah I loved her.

But noooooooo, regardless, we at Princeton High School do not appreciate listening to “crazy Feminazi bitches who think they know everything.” Nor do we understand “why [we would need] to protect ourselves online if we have nothing to hide.” I mean, c’mon- isn’t that “going against the government.” Ya know- the people “trying to find terrorists?”

Those quotation marks aren’t arbitrary. These are actual things people said today.

Honestly, she could’ve been talking about Timbuk-freakin’-tu, it wouldn’t have mattered- the point is not the content, but instead the blatant disrespect this woman was shown today. Was it because she’s a woman? Or because she called the wanna-be fratboys out for cheering for Trump? Probably both.

But like I said- not surprised. In conjunction with the pointless cheering, which bordered on heckling, and obnoxious clapping, I was completely unvexed by the behavior of our special student body. And yet- I seemed to be the only one.

At break, numerous people voiced concern and shock at the behavior of the crowd. Which is strange to me. What’s shocking? Were you like, not here last year? We know what our school is made of, and it’s freakin’ embarrassing.

So, to all of you who just couldn’t keep it together during the assembly, I address you in the same manner as your fearless leader on 60 Minutes the other night. In the words of Donald Trump, rather- in the words of President-Elect Trump: “Stop it.”

Inspiring, I know.

Until next time,


Voting & Other Things


I know, I know- again?  To put it simply: Yes.

I have returned to my virtual playground and I’m absolutely delighted that you’re all here to join me. Now, I haven’t reentered the world of blogging because I’ve missed it (though to be honest I definitely have) but instead because we have a pertinent issue on our hands that must be dealt with immediately: Teenagers are not voting.

You don’t need me to list all the reasons why it is imperative that everyone vote in this election- if it isn’t clear to you by now, then you’re beyond saving. But, some people may need a slight nudge in the right direction, that being: towards the polls.

Not only is voting your civic duty, but in our current political climate with such an unpredictable landscape, and a general population so easily swayed by the media-regardless of the verity of the news they project- the United States is in trouble. Look at the polls, they’re close. Too close. Their numbers shouldn’t have even been in the same zip code- but here we are, neighbors in percentages.

Though  currently has Clinton leading by a little less than 30% nationally, they predict that she’ll only win 48% of the popular vote. Which is absurd. Voting isn’t just about making sure that Clinton makes it to the oval office, but it is also a demonstration of ethics. By showing that Donald Trump can win approximately half of the popular vote, a message is sent not only across the nation, but to the entire world: “We’re okay with this.”

We’re okay with misogyny and bigotry and candidates backed by the KKK. We’re okay with generalizations and stereotypes being treated as fact. We- a nation of immigrants- are okay with barring people from our soil. No- we’re not just okay with it, we agree with it.

That is what 50% of the popular vote says.

Here, in New Jersey, there is almost a 99% chance that Clinton will win our state’s popular vote and therefore our electorates. Since the odds are so greatly in her favor, not voting may not seem like a big deal. She’s going to win anyway- right? In some cases yes, in others, no. She will win NJ, but Pennsylvania? Florida? Ohio?  North Carolina? Swing states are those in which the vote matters most. So, something that people are doing is trading votes. With #NeverTrump, a new app which allows Clinton voters in blue states to match with third party candidates in swing states and ‘trade’ votes, voters are ensured that Clinton will get more swing state votes and third parties will get their votes counted in a place where it won’t count against Clinton.

Perfectly legal and incredibly clever.

So, if you can’t stand casting the ballot for Hillary yourself- just have someone else do it. Because at the end of the day, its either her or the other guy. As Fran Wilde said the other day, “We are not watching a train wreck…we are on the train.” Don’t be a bystander in this election. Use the power you have, and use it well. Go vote. Because if this train crashes, we all go down with it.

Oh, and it’s good to be back.

Until next time,



Who I Am.

It’s been a while. For several reasons, but the most predominant being that I couldn’t bring myself to write about anything. Not a single thing. Every event and every feeling after the fiasco that was the middle of my Junior year tasted of bitter anticlimax. I couldn’t bring myself to write about any of it. And so the blog has been dead. For so long that I’ve gotten past the stage in my silence where people ask me if I’m still blogging. For the most part, this part of me has been forgotten- thrown in with the rest of the things that have happened this year.I am surprisingly okay with that. If we’re being honest, I’m over it. This blog is a part of me, but in no way the entirety, though many would like to think otherwise. Plus, I’ve reached a point where prom brackets and who’s dating who are no longer acceptable categories of subject matter for my work. I take that as both a blessing and a curse.

Despite me saying this before, it has seemed to escape the knowledge of my peers that these things aren’t really what matter. I know they’re the topics you use to distract yourself from the stuff going on in your life. It’s the same thing that the masses do to famous people, just on a smaller, more local scale. Why do you think tabloids still exist? TMZ? E! News? Because everyone is bored. They will quite literally pay for a distraction. You too, paid me for your fix. The currency being your time and attention.

We love hearing about how much everyone else’s shit stinks because it preoccupies us from dealing with our own business. That’s the only reason this blog got so popular. I think its notoriety, especially that earned from my earliest posts, says much more about the general psyche of Princeton High than it does about myself. I could have been so easily ignored PHS, but you drank me up as though I were the last beer at a party and you were the only sober person left in the room.

You waited eagerly for me to deliver hot-off-the-press gossip. To expose your classmates so that you had something to talk about at school the next day- something aside form your GPA. And I delivered. Time and time again. Until I began switching up the content matter. I started talking about dress codes, and misogyny and racial profiling. Let’s be honest, if I had initially entered your world screaming about inequality and the freaking wage gap, would you have given me the time of day? I’d go from a beer to a bottle of Pepto-Bismol instantaneously.

So I did what I knew would work. I gave you that momentary satisfaction which substance-less conversation tends to provide. Yet, it leaves a bad taste in the back of your mouth, every time, without fail. But you didn’t mind and neither did I. I was building myself a platform. I was creating a forum where I could say what really mattered and be assured that the masses would hear it, consume it readily, searching for an ounce of that inebriating gossip which they run off of. I was setting myself up. I don’t know what you were doing.

Nonetheless, here we are. It’s the end of the year and subsequently the end of the blog as you know it. Not forever. Not even for more than three months. I’ll be back in the fall. You’ll still have the privilege of being able to know what I think about everything. I know, how generous of me.

I figured I should give you all I proper goodbye. You have been so good to me and so stunningly awful at the same time. Whether you have stood with or against me, you have taken the time to read what it is I have taken the time to write, and that is something for which I will be infinitely grateful.

I’m going to go enjoy my summer. You go enjoy yours.

Until next time,


The Aftermath

Annnnnnd, we’re back!

It’s been about two weeks since you’ve last heard from me but I figured that I’ve been quiet for long enough. Everything has died down as much as it’s going to and I think it’s time for me to comment on the response I’ve received for my last article, not only from my community, but also from the world.

Before I really get into everything, I’d like to preface my message with a very big thank you. To everyone who has sent me kindness, support, and love: I thank you. To all who were my friends before “Drinking Games,” and have remained my friends through the insanity and media firestorm: I thank you. To anyone who’s had my back and stood by what they know is right, especially those at Princeton High School, where it is currently extremely unpopular to support me and what I did: I thank you. Not only for being there for me, but also for holding tightly to your morals and not ditching them in fear of being ostracized in our halls. You are brave and greatly appreciated.

That being said, I am amazed at how large the story became. I never anticipated that this would be the response my article, or anything I’ve written, would evoke from the world. International News? Woah.

I am beyond impressed at the feedback which I have received from those who have read and responded to my article and at how seriously many have taken the incident. That is no small thing. It is essential that people recognize how ignoring any issue, whether it be anti-Semitism, ignorance, insensitivity or pure, privileged blindness, does nothing to alleviate the problem. In fact, I would suggest that it perpetuates the issue.

In addition to the multitude of congratulations and supportive messages which I have received are an alarming number of people willing to stand up in defense of the boys and their actions. I am appalled by the response which I am receiving from several in my community-more so than I am by the game itself.

So many people adamantly excuse the game as exactly that- just a game. That idea in its foundation is completely incorrect. This is the expression of latent racism and proclivity to diminish the culture and experiences of others. By excusing the game as anything other than what it truly is projects the notion that under certain circumstances this behavior is acceptable. Which once again is wrong. It is never acceptable.

The widespread disregard for the severity of the boys’ actions, especially seeing as they are prominent individuals and role models in the Princeton community, only serves to show exactly where a large portion of Princeton High School is in terms of empathy, understanding and regard for the major events and struggles which have shaped the world we live in today.

This isn’t about a lack of Holocaust education. This is about people thinking they can do whatever they want without there being any repercussions. Students’ adamant backing of the game has only reinforced the existence and previous reality of this deranged mindset.

We didn’t need this entire event to prove that there is a serious case of ignorance plaguing a large portion of the Princeton High population. The fact that the boys could post this atrocious picture on social media, even after being told to take it down by their peers, then have the audacity to leave it up for 24 hours and have no one say anything about it- that proves quite enough. The world getting a hold of the story is significant because it shows that if it can happen here, it’s definitely happening elsewhere.

It’s not okay because there were Jewish students there or because “boys will be boys.” Those are excuses, which make no sense at their roots. Those boys are not a representation of the world’s entire Jewish community. And saying boys will be boys is a sexist piece of commentary which relinquishes teenage boys of responsibility for their actions in cases where anyone else would be held fully responsible. Using these ideas to defend the boys is, for lack of a better term, stupid.

People have claimed that I posted the article for a myriad of different reasons. Though, it doesn’t really matter why they think I did it, because at the end of the day, it was the right thing to do. Through the adversity and criticism, I stand by my article and everything I have done in light of its release. Would I do it again? Without a doubt.

Until next time,



Drinking Games 

Hey again!

Today I’m coming to you live from the futon in my room with some fresh off the boat debauchery straight from the students of Princeton High School. This here is even more appalling than the usual stuff. Honestly, it’s ridiculous- but it would be even more ridiculous for me to come across such ignorance and not utilize it as an example for anyone else harboring the misconception that they can walk around doing dumb stuff like this and not get called out. So here we are.

Right off of Snapchat in a harrowingly recognizable basement, with our classmates front and center. And no, your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you. Yes, that’s a swastika. Double yes- they’re playing Jews vs Nazis beer pong. No again, this isn’t a joke.

Well, perhaps it is a joke. But then I guess the punchline would be: genocide. Pardon me if I don’t find that to be hilarious. The real joke here is that these kids weren’t only insensitive enough to play the game, but also silly enough to post it on Snapchat and leave it there long enough for me, and several others, to take a screenshot.

Putting the picture on social media means that someone was proud enough of the game to want to show it off. Meaning that they must be trapped in the delusional mindset that making a drinking game based off of the Holocaust is cool. Or funny. Or anything besides insane. Because that’s what this is: insanity.

I’m not even Jewish and I’m still offended. This type of behavior makes me believe that this group of guys would readily play “pin the noose on the nigger,” just as readily as they incorporated an “Anne Frank” cup in their noxious little game of pong. Yes, that happened. No, you can’t just make this stuff up.

See, the thing is, if I were in the presence of a bunch of racist teenage boys, who thought it was a good idea to play drinking games which served as a direct reflection of exactly how racist they are, I wouldn’t hesitate to let them know that they’re being racist. But what’s odd is that here, there are Jewish kids partaking in the game.* I kid you not- I went to one of these guy’s bar mitzvah. I think what’s most confusing to me is that they chose to participate in this heinous, anti-Semitic activity as opposed to trying to shut it down. I don’t get it.

And on top of that, why does the implication that this is even remotely okay exist in the first place? Who is permitting these deranged ideologies to develop and materialize in the form of beer pong? We are. Evidently, as a society, we have gone wrong in some way, shape or form. Because the moment that the Holocaust became a running joke was the moment that ignorance outweighed intellect- and that is the death of compassion for human life.

know I’m not the only one who saw this Snapchat story. Yet here I am, the only one saying anything about it. I am unsure as to what’s worse: the static silence from my peers, or the fact that this happened in the first place.

This is indefensible. You can’t make excuses for stuff like this, just like you can’t make excuses for the KKK or 9/11 or the slaughter of 6 million people. Some things are just bad, and this is one of them. Maybe you think I’m overreacting, or that I don’t know how to take a joke. If this is the joke, if this is supposed to be funny- well then you’ll have to excuse me because I simply cannot drink to that.

Until next time,


*Point of clarification: the Jewish boys did not participate, they only helped set up.

Bracket Season

 Annnd, we’re back!

Spring break is coming to a close this evening, as the grand majority rush to finish whatever homework they’ve been assigned and more likely than not saved for the last minute. But naturally, when the masses have something important to do, they end up here, searching for something new to center their hallway gossip around. And boy, do I plan to deliver tonight!

It’s basic knowledge that Promposal Season’s beginning is marked by the ending of spring break. That means it’s also Promposal Bracket Season, starting tomorrow. Or tonight really, since the bracket should come out before the games begin. No worries if you forgot to create your bracket- I, along with a few close friends, have fashioned one which I am confident will be 100% correct.

Now, I’m sure you’re all dying to see this thing. I’m not gonna lie, it’s a piece of art, so you should be excited to see it. But like all good things in life, it comes with a catch. That being- it’s written completely in emojis.

I know, it sounds ridiculous- because it is. Let’s not forget that I’m not allowed to use any names on here **cue eye roll** but that hasn’t stopped me before and it sure as hell isn’t going to stop me now. So, the bracket being in code means that you guys are going to have to figure it out yourselves. And, to make this even more fun, the first person to guess the bracket correctly in its entirety gets a fun little surprise.

I know, I know- usually I tell you all not to ask me who’s who. But it’s a new day, a new age, and to be honest, PHS is getting rather dull (more so than usual). I think it’s time to spice things up! So, let the games begin. Happy guessing!

Until next time,


The Bracket 

To Everyone You Hate


I can’t stop thinking about how high school students make absolutely no sense. Primarily, about how when people “hate” someone, they become completely infatuated in that other person. There is nothing more confusing to me than people who are obsessed with hating another person. I thought the point of hating someone was to not even be bothered with the thought of them. Do you see me walking around scheming up ways to ruin the lives of those nasty girls I used to eat lunch with?Or talking about how much I hate their clothes? Or bothering with them at all?  No! Because I don’t waste my time on people  I don’t like, and neither should you.

It’s not always that people behave this way, but it’s so frequent that I had to say something about it. Why does it happen? Why do people spend time even thinking about those who really bother them? There’s no point. I can guarantee you, they aren’t thinking about you half as much.

For example, last Saturday night, during some boot-legged talent show at which my amazing improv troupe, Just Wing It, preformed,  these two girls, who I had quite honestly forgotten existed, were incessantly bitching about me attending a party that evening. Like come on. Really? You don’t have anything better to do? What do people think is gonna happen when they complain about others? That magically they’re going to disappear? We all far too educated for such stupidity. The fact of the matter is that you’re wasting your breath when obsessing over people you hate. But hey, maybe some people get off on that.

And here’s some insider information: people almost always find out when you’re talking about them. That includes the good, the bad and the ugly. They find out and sometimes they’ll confront you in person, sometimes via text and sometimes on their blog. I guess it depends on what mood I’m- oh I mean, they’re in.

Or another instance is literally always when my ex-boyfriend terrorizes me for sport. What. The. Frick. He will legitimately make a game out of making me uncomfortable. He’s not the only one. I see people do it all the time. They purposely go and engage others who they know don’t want to be bothered with them. It’s like some twisted cry for help. Well here’s your help: leave people who don’t like you alone. Odds are you don’t like them either, so stop wasting everyone’s time. And for the love of god, take a hint.

I think the best example of this insanity is how back in middle school, we would sit around for hours and just talk about the same thing, usually a person we all “hated” (but were just secretly jealous of), and bash them. Over and over and over. Just reiterating the same point until we got hungry or had to go home. We never had to stop because we got tired. We didn’t get tired, it was invigorating. Like talking poorly about someone else made us feel better.

If that isn’t pathetic, I don’t know what is. But seventh grade girls acting that way, relying on the collective put down of another isn’t nearly as pitiful as watching high school upperclassmen behave in an identical manner. Obsessing over someone you claim to despise is transparent. It’s silly, pointless and above all else, sad. So let it go. Do it for yourself, and for all the people you hate.

Until next time,



Just A Little Bit Dramatic


I realize it’s been awhile since I’ve told all you white kids to stop saying nigga, but now I’m back- so no worries. Today I want to delve into something a little different. That something being the disturbingly shallow pool of totally uninteresting and unnecessary high school drama in which we submerge ourselves into on a daily basis. I don’t know if it’s like this in other places, but PHS drama is so monotonous that it’s literally embarrassing to talk about it with kids from other schools. I kid you not, the things people get bent out of shape over are ridiculous.

Now before I begin, I want to make it clear that I realize all pain is relative. But the things going down in the halls of Princeton High School aren’t painful, at least not in the way one might think. They’re painful to listen to, but they’re not painful to go through. And so, when I say that people should really stop caring so much about who’s done what, when, where, why and how, and pay more attention to the news, I say that with full recognition that some of the things people are going through are not trivial, and do require attention, energy and focus. The rest of you- yes, those with issues as fake as your friends, I’m talking to (and about) you, so listen up.

Another caveat: you may be thinking, “But Jamaica, you capitalize off of this stuff. It’s why we all read your blog!” To that I say : yeah no duh I capitalize off of it. How else am I supposed to make sure you read the articles about gender bias and racial inequality just as attentively as you read those which paint scenes of drunken debauchery, starring your friends and classmates? Hmm, how do you suppose I do that? Gotta keep em’ interested. The fact is, you’re here for the same reason as everyone else, to get your fill on the dumb drama of PHS. But I guess I’m just as bad as you, for serving it up on a silver freakin’ platter.

Anyway, on to my point. What I want to say is that people need to stop getting so upset about the silliest things. For example: The whole “She stole my hand made prom dress,” crap is ridiculous. It’s a dress, get over it. Or the entire “I didn’t hook up with that girl’s boyfriend, blah, blah, blah,” is antiquated. How many times do you think we’ve heard that one? Here’s a hint: too many. Even worse is the “He/She can’t come to that person’s party! They have no right!” Are you kidding me? That’s what your worried about? Who’s allowed to come to a party? In a house that isn’t yours?

It’s one thing to get upset about something and complain to your friends about it, but jesus, everyone wants to make it a spectacle. Like okay, we get it. Yesterday, this all didn’t bother me nearly as much as it does right now. I think that’s because today I had to deal with like a month’s worth of dumb drama. And to set the record straight: Justin didn’t do it (You’re welcome). It’s one thing to watch it all go down, or to read the texts off of someone else’s phone, but to put up with it myself…tsk tsk tsk. No good.

In all honesty, I know that everyone is aware of how silly all of these problems are. I mean, it’s hard to miss the ridiculousness once someone’s actually articulated the drama. Hearing it out loud really proves how crazy it is. But we live off of it. It keeps the small world of PHS turning. Sad, but it’s the truth. Normally I’d close with a suggestion on how to change it, or make the situation better. But here, there is nothing to do. You take away the petty fights and texting wars and kids might start doing some really harmful stuff. It’s a part of high school that isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. And if you don’t like it, well then that’s just too damn bad.

Until next time,



Not Your Nigga


It’s me again, and If I hear a white kid say the n-word in front of me one more time, I will not hesitate to articulately, effectively and eloquently kick the living shit out of them with my words. This is not a threat. It’s a promise.

I guess you guys don’t get it by now, so I’ll try again to explain what I’m sure has inherently already been nonverbally demonstrated to you by society. What don’t you get? If you aren’t a person of color the n-word is not for you. Why should you already know? Well, if it’s a word you aren’t allowed to say in english class, you most likely shouldn’t be saying it period.  If you wouldn’t say it to the black kids at school, whom half of you have probably never spoken to, you shouldn’t be saying it at all. If you can count all the black people you know on one hand, and I’m one of them, you really shouldn’t be saying it. And you should broaden your horizons, talk to some black people- for the love of god your president is black. Come on.

You don’t get to say it. You don’t get to use it as a term of “endearment.” You don’t ever get to use it, no, not even when you’re rapping along to your favorite song. There’s a reason it’s bleeped out on the radio. Take the hint and remove it from your vocabulary.

You may be wondering why you aren’t allowed to call your homies ya niggas. Like, how unfair is that? It’s like systematic oppression or something, right? Speaking of systematic oppression, allow me to briefly remind you of the systematically ingrained bias and persecution which people of color have been suffering from for the past 300 or so years and continue to suffer from to this day. That’s oppression. And that’s also why you don’t get to use it.

It does not belong to you. It is something which at one point in time, was the nastiest, most vile thing a person could be called. It meant sub-human. It meant, “you have no power.” It meant, “I own you.” And now, the black community has taken that word and changed it to be a common term, something they refer to one another as so that it can no longer be used against them. They have claimed it as their own. And when you use it, with your little caucasian mouth, you blatantly disregard the history and the meaning behind the word. You disregard the struggle, and the sacrifice. You sound like, for lack of a better term, an asshole. Which we all know you aren’t. No, you’re just misguided. Which is exactly why I’m doing you a favor and explaining why you should never ever use that word.

Listen, I get it. You wanna be cool and you probably think that you should be able to say whatever you want. But unfortunately for you, you can’t. That’s not how it works. Sure, maybe you can get away with dropping the n-bomb around your friends. Even around the black one, they’ll probably just laugh and feel terribly uncomfortable. Mostly because they’re the minority in the situation (In Princeton? Astonishing, I know.) and they don’t feel comfortable enough to tell you to shut your racist little mouth. Trust me I know, I’ve been in that situation more times than I can count. But here’s me telling you, for all the times that no one could or would, to shut your racist little mouth. Shut it tight.

One of these days, you’re gonna say it at the wrong time, in the wrong place around people who aren’t afraid to speak up. You’re going to say it and you’re gonna get your ass kicked. I’m only trying to prevent that from happening, so read closely.

You can’t say it, ever. Not while singing, not while joking, not after your black friend tells you that he/she gives you permission (If they do, they’re an Uncle Tom and have lost their privilege to say it along with Stacy Dash and Raven Simone). You must take the time to say “the n-word.” You may reference it, but you may never say it. You already have enough privilege as it is, you don’t get anymore.

If you must say it, then say it with the hard R. Might as well, why hold back on showing the world what a racist little thing you are? If you’ve just gotta say it, say it to a black kid, right to their face. Take it all the way. If you can’t help but say it, just know that I’m not your buddy, I’m not your pal and I’m sure as hell not your nigga. Nope, not your nigga at all.

Until next time,

– Jamaica☆



Use Your Words


Ayee everybody!!

You will never guess what happened to me today. Well, you might be able to guess, because it happens all the time. Somone asked me to write a post about a specific occurance, as if my blog had a submit box with a “Your Ideas Here” sign above it. I don’t know what it is with people, but the delusionality coating some of the things which comes out of their mouths is astonishing. Like, really? You really think that I’m just gonna write what you ask me to? What am I, Princeton High’s own personal vessel for calling out people who they don’t like? Ha! You thought. You really thought. 

Unfortunately for everyone blinded by the inaccurate notion that I am open to utilizing this blog to voice the opinion of anyone besides myself- that notion is incredibly misguided. It’s never gonna happen. So save everyone some time and quit asking. 

This isn’t the first time someone has begged me to write about “some bitch in their history class,” and I’m sure that it won’t be the last. But I write tonight with the sole purpose of making something very clear: I do not think that one should look to others to speak for them. I think that if someone has something they wish to express, then they should say it themselves. If they’re too afraid to do that, then what they have to say must not really be worth saying at all.

This line of thinking is of course not meant to be taken as a blanket statement. Some people can’t speak for themselves, and in those cases they need advocates. But in the situations I deal with, pertaining to petty gossip and uninteresting drama, no advocacy is necessary. The people who have things to say are more than capable of verbalizing them. Either say what you feel, or say nothing at all. Just some food for thought.

Until next time,

– Jamaica☆