Black People in Belize Can Swim

So the Fuck What?

In the mountains of western Belize, me and my wife was about to go on a guided tour of the Actun Tunichil Muknal caves to see some stalagmites and dead people. A group of us stood in line while this big dude with dreads signed us in and gave us helmets and headlamps. When he got to me, he concerned-whispered, “I’m sorry, brother, I forgot to ask you if you could swim, because there’ parts of the caves with water and—”

“Of course I can swim, nigga! Why you ask me some silly shit like that?”

“Because you’re black.”

“You’re black,” I said, “and you know how to swim.”

“I’m not black. I’m Belizean.”

“You still black.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, “A lot of black dudes come down here from New York or California or Chicago and they can’t swim. I’m just tryna look out for you.”

“Yo black ass ain’t tryna look out for me. Yes, I can swim. Can I have my helmet now?”

I knew he was right. But I felt betrayed because that’s some shit black folks don’t say to each other. Only white folks have said that shit to me. The first time somebody said that shit to me was a white person, when I was in navy boot camp. He straight up said, “You might as well go to the remedial line now because black people can’t swim.” I said the same shit I said the Belizean dude, of course I know how to swim. Then I looked across the pool to the long-ass remedial line. It was all black folks.

I now know the racial history of swimming pools and other recreation areas pre and post-segregation. But I mainly didn’t know about that stereotype because I grew up in a cluster of black towns where some people could swim and some people couldn’t. It was a personal shortcoming, not a racial one. My dad could swim and my mom couldn’t.

I was one of those people who couldn’t swim because I didn’t get taught or got taught the wrong way when my dad threw me into the water and I almost drowned. I didn’t learn how to swim for real until I was 14, when I was at this camp and they told us we were gonna boat race to the middle of the lake and back. I went because this girl had my nose wide open. We’d been up under each other’s asses all week. She said her parents were okay with her dating black guys. I said my parents were okay with me dating white girls. We both was lying. But we still promised to write to each other after camp.

When we got out to the middle of the lake, the counselors yelled, SURPRISE TWIST, and told everybody to jump out, flip the boat over, then get back in. I sat there while everyone jumped out like NOPE. My girlfriend reached her beautiful ass arm out the water and said, “Just jump. It’ll be fine. I’m here with you.” I jumped. She smiled.

The team said I should hold one of the oars while everyone else flipped the boat, because it would help me float. But I accidentally let it go and it floated away while I doggy paddled after it. They all got back in the boat, and pulled forward, not wanting to lose and not wanting to leave me. My girlfriend reached out the back, and I said fuck that oar, and started swimming towards my woman.

Being a late swimmer who only learned out of fear and teenage love, means that I was just proficient, and still not super comfortable in water. But I’ve kept trying water shit over the years. It’s partly fun, and I wanna get over my fears. I’ve been snorkeling a lot–it’s so otherworldly and wild, but I still have some fear that I’m in the ocean. I went swimming in a shark cage with my wife in Hawaii, and I was terrified the whole fucking forty-five minutes we were in the water. My wife was in heaven. She was born and raised in Hawaii and is more comfortable in water than on land.

I’ve jumped off a 25-foot cliff into the ocean, and panicked when I felt my feet hit sand, but pushed up hard to the surface. When I opened my eyes, a sea turtle was staring dead in my face. I screamed and tried to punch it.

Over the years, I developed the most ridiculous shit: a water allergy. People laugh when I say it because they think I’m joking, but I’m serious, it’s called Aquagenic Urticaria. “Aquagenic urticaria is a rare skin condition where itchy, red, and swollen hives develop after contact with water, regardless of its temperature.” Or type of water. Even pure distilled water makes me break out. Even my fuckin sweat. If I don’t take allergy meds before I shower, it feels like a million red ants are biting me all over my body for an hour.

It’s terrible. But also kinda cool, because I don’t feel any external or internal pressure to keep trying water shit now. I mean, I miss walking naked in the street while it’s raining, but I ain’t gonna be following no more women into an ocean or being betrayed by a not-black-but-Belizean-black dude. Fuck a beach. Fuck a sand. Fuck a ocean. And fuck that sea turtle.

The tin that pairs well with this story is The Fantastic World of the Portuguese Sardine’s “The Mr. Lobster Show” because it is a spectacular event every time my dumb ass tries something in the water.