It is February 2022, and I sit here struggling to document my honest and transparent feelings. Struggling because I know that honesty is not only unpopular around these parts, it is downright criminal. Struggling because I want to make sense of and share with you a perspective which really annoys me. I am a fair person though, so let me present another look at someone who spent the better part of 25 years trying to become my enemy. This is not an exposé, it is an invitation to everyone, including me, to take another look.

I know something is horribly wrong with society when we start relegating truth to personal positioning, as in “speak your truth”. What is my truth? Is it different from the chronology of events that has unfolded? Is truth now a synonym for perspective? If it didn’t happen, can it still be my truth? And if it did happen, why isn’t it simply the truth?

I have watched and listened in dismay for the last week or more while too many people became invested in an argument which never should have started in the first place.

I entered music via English language and literature class. I didn’t come through the Church. This is quite possibly my saving grace, since I don’t see the Church as a place to return to, and I don’t see my secular life as something to escape from. I don’t feel any obligation to deity, and neither do I feel ashamed of even one step on my journey.

Celebrating my outcome cannot be done without gratitude for every single experience and the lessons learnt from even the worst, which, together with the successes, make up who I am. Understanding this is a privilege, and I know that it is not a common position to hold psychologically — definitely not a common position in Jamaica.

Before I begin, let me state categorically, I do not know Marion Hall, aka Lady Saw. We do not know each other. We have been co-workers for 30 years, and working within a relatively small physical and commercial space put us in each other’s presence on numerous occasions, but we have never been friends. I am not a trained psychologist and therefore I am not qualified to diagnose anyone, but even if I were, and could, I genuinely don’t believe there is any illness afoot. Confusion and vulnerability are not illnesses, and we have all suffered those at some point in our lives. I now caution myself to exercise the empathy I keep demanding from everyone else.

Imagine starting a career in music and trying to sing what prudish Jamaicans call “clean music” and not getting any traction at all. Then imagine singing what they call “dirty music” and blowing up beyond all expectations in the same space which pretends it only applauds righteousness. Now go further and imagine being heavily criticised in the same breath you are celebrated, even adored, then picture growing old in that toxic space. The attention paid to the dirty music shifts focus and turns to younger, fresher updates, while those who demand clean music completely ignore the offerings fitting that description. What do you do then?

The dancehall audience has never given its performers licence to diversify, and so far the only movement accepted has been from secular music to church/Rasta. How does one grow old in a gerascophobic and hypocritical industry? Surgery can alter appearance to give a younger look, but nothing erases decades of memories, and no filter can affect the audience’s attitude to you.

If not Church, where would the ex-minister go? Where do you go after laying claim to a throne based entirely on a bunch of fast-expiring narratives? The saddest part is that those who defend her every action and make excuses for them could have done way less work by simply buying the new catalogue and making the new position as appealing as the old. There was no encouragement to sweeten that labour.

I have long felt bad for her in amassing what seems to be a circle which feeds her insecurities and protects her from reason. What appears at a glance to be paranoia needed someone rational to ground that energy. Instead, it got a lot of folks who saw an opportunity to reinforce the fears and cast themselves as protectors so they could benefit from commercial success.

Many artistes experience this. The few outsiders who got close enough to say something chose instead to be silent to protect whatever job they got let in to perform. How can anyone blame them? If your immediate surroundings do not offer any reality check, as an artiste you are doomed. For as long as you are the “it” person the audience never holds you accountable. You are above reproach.

If, instead of leaving you jaded that becomes normal to you, the inevitable shift will really damage your ego. It must be painful to not be able to reminisce in peace and enjoy the fruits of hard labour. Even worse when you are your own enemy. I will not gloat. The only reason I escaped that fate is because I lack morals and suffer from agoraphobia.

Today I move on with no sarcasm, no cynicism, just the understanding that we all need somewhere to fit. Every step we take is in the hope it will bring us closer to what we seek. Many times it doesn’t, and outcome trumps intent. With that in mind I will exercise more discretion going forward, and I wish her happier times. Peace.

Tanya Stephens is an international singer/songwriter and citizen of Jamaica.