What living in Jamaica for a year taught me...

If you ever want to truly understand where you come from — where your spirit finds rest, where your voice feels natural, where your feet feel grounded in soil that recognizes you — you need to live in the land, not just visit it.

I’ve had my Jamaican passport for as long as I can remember. I hold dual citizenship, so technically, I’ve always had a right to the island. But it wasn’t until I decided to live there — for a full year — that I really came to understand Jamaica in all its rawness, richness, and revelation.

This wasn’t vacation. This was real life.

This was waking up to the sound of palm trees dancing in the wind — every morning, as if nature had its own personal soundtrack just for me. This was feeling the sun on my skin before I even brushed my teeth. This was mango trees in the backyard and fruit so fresh it dripped down your arm. This was sweating through my clothes in tropical heat and realizing — my skin has never looked better. The air was humid, pure, healing. It left me glowing without effort. My pores? Thankful. My mind? Clear.

Living in Jamaica was raising puppies with my family, learning their little personalities, watching life unfold from the earth up. It was walking the land that holds generations of my bloodline. It was hearing stories at night from older relatives — stories I never heard in America — that connected dots in my soul I didn’t know were missing.

It was quiet. Still. Slow.
There’s no NYC chaos, no LA hustle. You eat when the food is ready. You go when you're good and ready. You breathe deeper. Your nervous system finally unclenches.

I watched the news daily — not the American broadcast, but the Jamaican papers. I followed months of headlines that painted a far more complicated, intimate picture of the island than any resort ever could. The truth is, Jamaica is both beauty and brokenness. It’s warm-hearted neighbors, powerful women at the market, community strength… and it’s also corruption, violence, and systemic wounds. You have to love both to really know the place. And I do.

What living in Jamaica gave me that no city ever could… was sanctuary.

It gave me a quiet knowing. That my soul can be both ambitious and at rest. That I can be soft without being weak. That I don’t always need more. Sometimes, I just need to sit under a tree and hear the wind.

The food? Next level. Not just the taste, but the love it’s cooked with. Everything seasoned, down to the bone. Escovitch fish, steamed callaloo, fresh breadfruit roasted over fire, and soup so rich it made you slow down between every bite.

There’s something about being around your people. Not the ones who look like you at a distance, but the ones who know your phrases, your humor, your rhythm. The ones who make you feel seen without explanation. Jamaica reminded me I don’t have to over-perform to be loved. I don’t need a schedule to feel productive. Sometimes, my biggest accomplishment is being fully present.

There were challenges, too. The infrastructure isn't always smooth. Errands that take 30 minutes in the States might take 3 hours. Power outages. Water shortages. But somehow… I didn’t mind. It’s like the land has a way of asking you to let goof control. To trust life again.

Even the chaos has a rhythm. Even the rough patches come with lessons.

That year shifted my entire perspective. It stripped away ego. It made me remember why I hustle to begin with — not just for achievement, but for freedom. And there is no freedom like the kind you feel barefoot in your homeland, sweating under the sun, drinking coconut water, and knowing you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

Want to tap into your roots too?

Whether you're first-generation, second-generation, or just reconnecting with your lineage, claiming your Jamaican citizenship is possible.
I created a full step-by-step blog post for you:
👉 [How to Obtain Jamaican Citizenship or a Passport (Even If You Don’t Live There Full-Time)]

Because if your soul has been calling you “home” — maybe it’s time to answer.