If Martians were to land on the Island today, you could be fairly certain that they would be hooked up with a salario de lujo, a paid apartment in La Anacaona, un carro full y de paquete and a hefty golf vacation plan in some club de empleados de la empresa tal. “¡Qué lindo habla el Marciano!” the natives would coo in awe of their light green skin, and while peppering them with questions about why would anyone leave Mars, they would dream to someday visit the beautiful red planet. These actions, what the common folk would call lambonismo and tumbapolvismo, is what I call in politically correct terms: Trophyism.
Trophyism is not such a nouveau concept. It started circa 1492 when the mesmerized natives thought of the milky-skinned and golden-haired conquerors to be the gods themselves. The legacy of this has resulted in the well-known guacanagarismo, a reference to the time when the cacique Guacanagarix bestowed his kingdom Marien to the colonists, making it the first Christian settlement of the Island. Today, the church of Trophyism spans both the business and romantic worlds, and it thrives on foreigner worshiping and devotion.
Trophyism goes beyond displaying eye-candy for people to marvel at. It is purposeful to have a healthy amount of Aryans in your organization because it somehow gives credibility to the company (credibility being the operative word here). It works to your advantage if you’re from Wichita, Wala Wala, or Wakita because ironically, it makes you more exotic than say, being from New York (something I continue to be baffled by). You need not to worry about having a degree or even being literate for that matter. Upon your arrival, the natives will throw a parade in your honor once they catch a glimpse of your sun-drenched tendrils and your comical salutation in your “pookeetow deh espainyol.”
Another thing I discovered is that Islanders love being ripped-off by foreigners. While on the Island, I learned about workshops that aimed to unlock the potential for anyone to achieve and attain anything. The Power of Visualization they call it. My friends were so excited to share with me the techniques that guarantee the power to harness my potential for goal realization, they swore that all I needed was to visualize it and pay the minimal fee of three thousand dollars upon completing the course. Of course the director, an expat from some hick town in The States, had set-up shop for these talleres to take place, where the credulous would learn the so-called pillars of contentment. After enough cohorts had “graduated,” the institution filed for chapter eleven, and the owner fled the country only to leave the participants with the power to visualize getting their money back.
In the romantic realm, Trophyism takes an interesting turn. For the native drooling men, it means finally having someone to perform every deranged sexual act they have fantasized about all their lives without having to worry about the power structures that come with being an Islander man (see August 12). If you’re a foreigner male, get ready for the panty-throwing event of a lifetime, for you will never have so much readily available vajayjay in your life.
For Islander women though, it’s a bit more complex. Trophyism becomes an absolute necessity, an instrument of survival especially for dark-skinned girls who have no hope for upward mobility. The trophy husband becomes the desired ticket out of paradise because let’s face it; middle class Islander men will not marry girls of color. Plus when it comes to interracial relationships, foreigners are definitely more open to them.
I finalize by saying that as per Island standards, being a Dominican-York does afford you the privilege of being considered a foreigner, not even when you are a blue-eyed blond. Your mottled Spanish will be the laughing stock of the natives and your style will be dismissed as presumptuous at best. Always remember the mantra, a York is a York is a York. I am sorry to burst your bubble, so drown your sorrow with a stiff Manhattan.