Many Paths, One People: What It Means to Be Caymanian

By Lucille Seymour, BEN, MBE, JP, Hon PhD (Hum)

The author offers this reflection as a lifelong Caymanian who has served as teacher, educator, senior civil servant, volunteer, protector of older persons, advocate for young women, politician, and community developer, writing from deep love for these Islands and their people. Since the 1960s, she has heard the murmurs and witnessed disparities affecting both native Caymanians and those who became the new Caymanians, and she now wishes, before she closes her eyes, to speak with truth and honesty. Her intention is to affirm the dignity and priority of Caymanians in their own land, to invite newcomers to truly join the Caymanian story, and to call on both citizens and Government to protect the culture, history, and opportunities that make “Many Paths, One People” a living reality rather than a slogan; she prays that her hopes and dreams may manifest in the Islands becoming one people, united in name and in heart, before she passes on.

In this time of intense debate over immigration, residency, and who is truly “Caymanian”, I offer my story and reflections as a lifelong daughter of these Islands, hoping to guide the conversation towards unity and respect.

Many Paths, One People: What It Means to Be Caymanian

I grew up in the Cayman Islands in the late 1940s and 1950s, when there were only a few thousand of us living here. Almost everyone I met was Caymanian. People from England or America could be counted on one hand, and there were not many others from the wider Caribbean. The judiciary and the medical professions depended largely on Jamaica. We went to Jamaica for many things, but we went there as visitors seeking goods and medical treatment, speaking with a Caymanian accent and carrying our Caymanian ways of good manners and thankfulness with us.

In those days, most of the people who came from outside did not arrive as tourists or investors, but as tradesmen and professionals. Some came from Jamaica, some from the United Kingdom, and a few from elsewhere to work in places like the hospital, the courts, the schools, and government offices. Many of them stayed on and lived among us, not apart from us. Their children went to school with us, played in our yards, and sat in the same churches. In time, those children spoke just like us and visited our homes and went to church with us. They kept their family names and places of birth, but they were drawn into Caymanian life and speech, not the other way around.

At primary school my teachers were local, and even the Jamaican teachers who came through the church in my secondary years soon sounded more like Caymanians than visitors. Later in life I studied in Jamaica, England, and the United States, but I held on to my Caymanian accent and conduct. Being Caymanian was not a slogan for me; it was simply how I had been formed from childhood.

As an Education Officer, I helped write texts and teach Cayman Social Studies. At that time Cayman heritage, civics, and history were examinable at the end of primary school, and civic lessons were taught in places like Cayman Brac. I believed then, and still believe now, that if every child who grows up here learns our story, our values, and our duties, they will be better able to call themselves Caymanian in more than name.

Since the 1990s, I have watched my country change. Financial services and tourism have brought growth and opportunity, but also a large influx of people from many places. Private and international schools have multiplied. Caymanian accents are often softened or replaced, and many young people live more in imported media and cultures than in the Cayman I once knew. At the same time, I hear our generational Caymanian children say that even with education and effort, the highest positions still seem to go to people brought in from afar.

Since the 1960s, as immigration increased to support our growing financial and tourism industries, many of us have watched a quiet shift take place in the lives of our young Caymanians. While newcomers helped build the modern economy, our children have too often found themselves competing for opportunities in their own land, seeing senior posts and key decisions handed to people brought in from abroad, even when Caymanians are qualified and willing to serve. They have grown up in classrooms and workplaces where their accent, their history, and their way of life can feel secondary to imported cultures, and this has planted in some a deep sense of being guests in the very home their forebears sacrificed to build.

My questions about “who is Caymanian” and “what is Caymanian” do not come from a desire to divide or condemn. I am not trying to provoke ugly discourse or to set “old” and “new” Caymanians against each other. I am trying to describe, as honestly as I can, what I have seen and felt on my journey from a small, almost entirely Caymanian society to the complex Cayman of the 21st century.

For me, Caymanian identity is the shared history, speech, values, and responsibilities of the people rooted in these Islands, whether by birth or by choice. It belongs to those whose families go back many generations and to those who have come more recently and truly joined our story.

My journey as a Caymanian who has traversed the world three times, and extended my travels as far south as the Falkland Islands and as far east as Fiji, reaching China, Africa, New Zealand, and Australia, and of course all the Caribbean Islands, South America, Canada, Europe, and the USA, has given me a good insight into how people live and honour their country. Of course, they too have invited others to join their rich cultures, to which those newcomers willingly adapt. The expectation here is no different, and the tax systems and rules in those countries often distinguish between locals and nationals, yet we still respect them greatly. With the shoe on the other foot, the acclimation that is necessary and required is no different from what should be expected here. Cayman is smaller and has a charismatic charm of welcoming people. That welcome is innate and Caymanian, and it draws an enigmatic love for this little rock. So, when all is said and done, if we wish to allow it to remain what we so dearly love, there must be a gathering of souls and minds with a kindred spirit to keep it so. This is a place that all of us love, so it is only natural that we must come together to keep this little place we call home.

I believe that when someone becomes Caymanian, they should gain more than security or advantages; they should also accept certain things. At the very least, I believe every Caymanian, old or new, should share:

A basic knowledge of Cayman’s history and civics, and of how hard earlier generations lived.

Respect for Caymanian accent and manners, even if their own speech is mixed.

A sense of duty to fellow Caymanians and to the land and sea that sustain us.

A commitment to stay and build, not just to use Cayman for a season and move on.

Because of this, I would like to see some simple steps. I call on our education authorities and all school leaders to help make these steps real. I would like every school, public or private, and the authorities who regulate them, to treat Cayman history, heritage, and civics as serious, examinable subjects. I would like young people from different schools and backgrounds to meet each other through shared projects and community service, so they grow up as one people, not in separate worlds. I call on Government to require that people applying for Caymanian status must attend a course that teaches our story and our responsibilities, so that becoming Caymanian means joining a people as well as receiving a document.

We rewrite or create stories in the media so that faces represent a cross section of who lives here and that the many shades we have are proudly placed, whether it is a death announcement, an advertisement, or a cultural story. When there is representation to participate on behalf of Cayman, it shows the world the beautiful hues of our interconnected ethnicity. When we hold programmes, we find a place to focus on our culture and heritage, and our national song is given the respect it deserves and we stand when it is sung. We celebrate our cultural days together, whether they come from shared hardship or from tradition, like Constitution Day. A people who build their history with their people, regardless of whether we arrived by plane or in pain, will be a successful and harmonious one. We encourage the mother tongue and unity in everything, and we should never find our own pronunciation or dialects being scoffed at. Cayman is no different from any other nation that is wrapped in the same cultural tapestry of language and cultural habits. Our difference is that we are the Cayman Islands and, as the saying goes, when you go to Rome you do as the Romans do. We are a set of people founded with great norms, rich cultural habits, and a strong sense of place.

To the young women and men reading this, I say: your voice, your accent, your history and your service are needed now more than ever in shaping the Cayman Islands of tomorrow.

My story of becoming and being Caymanian is not a scold or a reprimand; it is an experience to share from the many lives I have lived and worked in—as a young teacher, an educator, a senior civil servant, a lifelong volunteer and nation builder, a protector of older persons, a stalwart in shaping the lives of young women, a politician, and still a community developer. I too have been sidelined as a native, but with maturity as a child of God and a great mother, I have evolved not into bitterness, but into someone groomed to be cognisant of what my role should be in shaping my destiny, and the destiny of my country and my people. One thing is clear to me from all the countries I have visited: their indigenous people come first, and the responsibility of the nation builders and political directorate is not only to give that assurance, but to enact laws and policies to make it real. They must eat of the fat of the land. There is no country that does the opposite, and Cayman must not be the outlier that fails to do this.

I therefore think it opportune to write not only to the people of my country, but also to the Government, about my feelings on being a Caymanian and the benefits that status should bring to its people, and to all who wish to be honoured with that incomparable status. It must live in our very soul, in our breath, and in our voice.

I know that my own days are nearer sunset than dawn, but my deepest wish is that long after I am gone, children yet unborn will still be able to say with pride and truth, “I am Caymanian,” and know exactly what that means in their heart.

My hope is for a beautiful Cayman that embraces all who are truly willing to belong, while still honouring the sacrifices and stories of those who came before. I want us to be a people where generational and new Caymanians study together, work together, worship together, and serve together, so that over time we no longer feel the need to divide ourselves by labels like “generational” or “ancestral.”

In the end, what I long for is simple: that in this century, when someone says “I am Caymanian,” it means we share not just a passport, but a story, a duty, and a home.

Lucille Seymour