Dear Bahama Drama,
I never thought I’d be writing something like this. But I’m at my breaking point. My name is Devon Rolle. I’m a full-blooded Bahamian man, born and raised right here in Nassau. My mother was Bahamian. My father was Bahamian. I went to the University of The Bahamas, spent every dollar I could scrape to get my degree in computer science, hoping it would lead to a better life for me and my family.
I’ve never been one to complain or make noise. I just tried to work hard and do right. But now I’m desperate.
Three years ago, I lost my wife Nadine to breast cancer. She was 34. She fought that thing like a warrior. She was strong, even in her weakest moments. We have six children together, all born in the Bahamas. Six beautiful, smart, funny kids who I’ve been raising alone since the day I buried her.
Some nights I stay up staring at the ceiling, praying to God for help. I’ve had to be the mom and the dad. Cook. Clean. Hustle. Cry quietly in the bathroom when I think nobody’s watching.
But I never gave up. I kept applying for jobs in my field IT work, cybersecurity, systems admin. Over and over again I tried the public sector, sent my resume to ministries and government offices. You know what they told me?
“Who you is?”
“You ein on no party team?”
“I ain’t never heard your name before, big man you are wasting our time keep coming up here.”
I had the degree, the experience, the drive, but I didn’t have the connections. So, I kept struggling. Kept raising my kids. Kept hoping something would come.
Then, it did.
A U.S. tech company saw my resume online. They liked my portfolio. I passed the interview, passed the live coding test. They offered me the job. A full-time position. Remote work, health insurance, relocation benefits. My big break.
For the first time since Nadine died, I saw light again.
I told my kids we were moving. I told them we could finally live somewhere safe, comfortable, where we didn’t have to stretch one bag of rice for three nights. They were excited. My oldest cried. She said, “Mommy would be proud.”
But now I can’t go.
I went to get passports for my kids, and the Passport Office told me, “You might have problems.”
Why?
Because my wife their mother was Haitian.
Even though I’m a Bahamian citizen. Even though they were born here. Even though I’ve raised them alone since the day their mother died. The law still sees them as outsiders.
One of the officers looked me dead in my face and said, “These children may not be eligible.”
I said, “How?”
He said, “Because of their mother.”
Let me say this straight: My wife was born in the Bahamas too. She just never had her paperwork sorted out because, well, you know how that goes. She didn’t grow up feeling welcomed, even though she loved this country more than some of the same people who now sit behind desks judging her children.
My children sing the national anthem every morning.
My children carry my name, my bloodline.
My children were born right here in this country.
And now, because of some archaic, heartless law, I have to stand there and be told they aren’t Bahamian enough to leave this island with their father?
The clock is ticking. The job offer is real. But they said I need to be in the U.S. within the next three weeks or the offer will be given to someone else.
I can’t leave them behind.
I won’t.
So what do I do now? Let my kids grow up in poverty just because their mother was Haitian and the laws don’t respect that I’m their father?
This country has to decide what it really believes in.
Are we still judging children based on where their mother came from, even if their father is 100% Bahamian?
Are we still letting party politics and old laws rob honest men of a chance to rise?
I’m speaking out not just for me but for every father, every mother, every child in this country who gets ignored, turned away, denied… because of their surname, their bloodline, or their “status.”
My name is Devon Rolle. I’m a Bahamian. And my children are Bahamian.
Let us go build a better life.
Please.
File photo & name change:
Devon Rolle