Every so often, a society must admit when it has failed, not its government, not its leaders, but itself. In Dominica today, we are living that moment. You can feel it in the silence after another broad daylight shooting, the unease in parents’ voices when they send children to the shop, and the anger that simmers when yet another young man is gunned down over a chain, a phone, or worse, nothing.
And yet, when fingers point, they’re always pointed outward. But the truth that we, as a people, have been avoiding for far too long is this: this crime wave isn’t Roosevelt Skerrit’s fault. It isn’t the Dominica police Force. It isn’t the schools. This time, Dominica is to blame.
We Were Raised Better, So What Happened to Us?
Ask your grandmother how it used to be. She’ll tell you about the days when the whole village raised a child. When a neighbour could correct you, and no one screamed about “disrespect.” When men wore pants that covered their waist and didn’t live by begging for “just a lil $50” on the block, drinking Guinness by 9 a.m.
Now? Men sit idle all day, not seeking work, not building anything, just waiting for hustle, for sewo, or for handouts. Our women walk streets in daylight in poom poom shorts, calling it “freedom” while predators leer at 14-year-olds like prey. “Sewo in Dominica” used to mean joy and rhythm; now it means fighting until sunrise, alcohol-fueled madness, and no one taking responsibility when things go wrong.
When you raise a generation on hype, noise, and validation from likes and views, but give them no grounding in accountability, what do you expect? It’s not just about “Youth of Dominica”. It’s about what we, the adults, let them become.
Guns Don’t Grow in Gardens, Someone Is Giving Them Out
Let’s talk about the guns. Where are they coming from? How are boys from Goodwill to Grand Bay suddenly walking around with semi-automatics, long guns, and live ammunition? These weapons didn’t sprout like dasheen. Someone imported them, someone sold them, and someone in your village knows who they are.
But silence reigns. Nobody wants to be “the informer.” So we bury sons instead.
Police can raid homes. They can arrest. They can patrol the streets all they want. But they are always reacting. They can’t be inside your house when your son is stashing his weapon under the bed. They can’t stop a mother from turning a blind eye. They can’t raise your children.
In fact, the police have acted. They’ve launched operations, carried out patrols, and even risked their own safety. But when they detain one of our “little boys” or stop a car that “belongs to so-and-so cousin,” we cry police brutality. We want order, but we resist discipline. You can’t scream for peace while defending the people who profit from violence.
Government Alone Can’t Fix a Country That Doesn’t Want to Change
What more do we expect the government to do? There are programmes. There are skills training opportunities. There’s the National Youth Council of Dominica, trying to bring structure and purpose. But you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. And many of us have turned survival into identity.
Let’s also remember: when young people skip school, we blame the teachers. When a young man gets caught stealing, we blame poverty. When a mother fails to discipline her son, we say she’s tired. And when a community ignores gang activity, we say, “It’s not my business.”
But community life was never built on detachment. We didn’t survive hurricanes, colonialism, and hardship by pretending someone else will clean up the mess. We survived because we stood for something. Now we stand for nothing and wonder why we are falling apart.
Stop Defending What Should Embarrass Us
Let’s stop defending the indefensible.
- A man in town smoking weed all day, giving all young girls talk and asking his working friends for $50? That’s not “just a lil vibes.” That’s enabling.
- A teenage girl partying until 5 a.m. every weekend with no adult in sight? That’s not freedom. That’s neglect.
- A young man bragging about stabbing someone in a voice note? That’s not toughness. That’s a future headline.
We are seeing men shoot each other over phone arguments, attack neighbours they’ve known for years, and execute violence in the open, in full view of schoolchildren. This is no longer about poverty or opportunity. This is a culture problem. A conscience problem.
We post “RIP” under photos of boys we knew were killers. We pretend they were just “caught in the wrong place.” But we knew what they were doing. We didn’t want to deal with it. Because in Dominica today, you can have a funeral before you’ve had a future.
The Only Way Out Is Us
So what now? We don’t need another task force. We don’t need another speech. We need a national reckoning.
- Start with the family. Fathers, stop being weekend ghosts. Mothers, stop being best friends instead of parents. Start raising children with rules, with shame, with respect.
- Neighbourhoods must speak up. Not every disagreement is “bad mind.” Sometimes, it’s just truth.
- Religious and civic leaders must get serious. Less PR, more presence. You can’t fight for souls only when the cameras roll.
- Young men need role models, not influencers. If your son’s biggest aspiration is to own a T-MAX and walk with a big Gold Chain, he is not failing the state. He has failed his home.
We’re not lost yet. But if we keep romanticising the same excuses, Dominica will become a country of mourners and memorials.
This is not Roosevelt Skerrit’s fault. It is not the police’s fault. It is not the school system’s fault.
It is ours. And only we can fix it.
This article is copyright © 2025 DOM767
