From a distance, many of the island’s beaches appear closer to white. The pink becomes more noticeable under certain conditions, particularly where the sand is damp or the light is softer. Even then, it is not uniform across the beach.

For visitors, it is often something that needs to be pointed out; for residents, it is easy to overlook.

Still, the colour is something we brag about. Many of us do it without knowing how it came to be.

The pink is the result of the breakdown of foraminifera, microscopic forms of marine life with red or pink shells that live on the underside of coral reefs. When they die, the shells are broken down by wave action and carried ashore, where they mix with Bermuda’s naturally white sand, which is formed largely from crushed coral and calcium carbonate.

Over time, that material accumulates. The result is not a solid colour, but a variation in tone. Some areas appear pinker than others, depending on how much of the red shell material is present and how it has been distributed along the shoreline.

The effect can change from day to day. Stronger surf can bring more of the pink fragments to the surface, making the colour easier to see, while calmer conditions may leave the sand looking lighter. Heavy wave action and foot traffic can also make the colour less noticeable.

The pinkest sand is generally found along Bermuda’s south shore, where offshore reefs supply the material that forms the beaches. Horseshoe Bay is the most widely recognised example, but the same effect can be seen at Warwick Long Bay, Jobson’s Cove and Elbow Beach, all of which face the open ocean, allowing a steady movement of sand and shell material.

Even within those areas, the colour is not consistent. Some stretches show more of a pink tint than others, and the difference is often more noticeable closer to the water’s edge, where the sand is wet and more compact.

Perspective also plays a role. The colour tends to appear more clearly when viewed up close, particularly in the grains themselves rather than across a wide expanse of sand. Looking at the sand in your hand often reveals the contrast more clearly than looking across the beach.

In many cases, the pink appears as a faint tint rather than a strong colour. Photographs often suggest a brighter shade than what is seen in person. Lighting, editing and the angle of the image can all exaggerate the effect, creating an impression that does not always match what is found on the ground.

The colour that is there is the result of natural processes, shaped over time by the interaction between marine life, coral reefs and the movement of the ocean.

The post Why Bermuda’s sand looks pink appeared first on RG Magazines.

International Business is often described as the bedrock upon which Bermuda’s economy is built. The Association of Bermuda International Companies also believes IB impacts the community in other important ways.

Wayne Smith, executive director of Abic, said: “The multiplier effect says it all. Each new job creates 1.33 additional new jobs in Bermuda. We work to make Bermuda a domicile where international companies come and choose to stay, because they will have qualified talent, a community that welcomes their presence here, a business environment that is internationally competitive and evolves with changing times.”

But why would an expatriate worker want to live, work and play in Bermuda?

“It’s a great opportunity to work in a thriving business environment,” Mr Smith said.

“We are in international business, but we are really in the lifestyle business. Bermuda provides an excellent quality of life.”

From corporate sponsorship of important community events, to volunteering for local charities, IB helps the community in a myriad of ways.

“There are lots of community initiatives in which international companies and their staff participate,” Mr Smith said.

“Some employees volunteer for Big Brothers and Big Sisters. They also provide mentorship for scholarship awardees in the Abic education awards initiative. Last year, Abic gave out $800,000 in scholarships to almost 30 students so they can get into university. We do it every year and

over the last nearly 50 years we have given out about $20 million in scholarships to 830 people. You cannot overstate the value of that.”

Environmental stewardship is another important way that IB impacts the local community.

“We have an initiative with Keep Bermuda Beautiful where Abic member companies and their employees clean up sections of the Railway Trail,” Mr Smith said.

“In addition to KBB, other local sustainability projects in which IB is greatly involved includes the Bermuda Ocean Prosperity Project.

“The Bermuda Government is working with the private sector and the Waitt Institute, and of course, the Bermuda Institute of Ocean Sciences. They, in conjunction with BOPP, are working earnestly to preserve our magnificent oceans. International companies also invest heavily in the Bermuda Zoological Society Aquarium Museum and Zoo.”

Some 70 per cent of the Zoological Society’s annual support comes from international companies

and their staff.

If you’re a guest worker about to experience Bermuda Day for the first time, top tips include having a good night’s sleep and a full breakfast.

“The first thing a guest worker should do when they come to work in Bermuda is to learn about Bermuda’s history and why it is the way it is,” Mr Smith said.

“Once a person understands Bermuda’s cultural heritage, I would encourage them to get a good night’s rest, get up early and take in the Bermuda Day Half Marathon.”

Many countries have sporting events where people line up on the side of the road to cheer on the competitors.

But Mr Smith noted the Bermudian iteration of this is unique.

“It is special because you have food stations and families camped out along the race and parade routes, cheering for runners, cyclists and parade participants,” he said.

“It’s a unique experience unlike anything you would find anywhere else in the world.”

He added: “Also, have a good breakfast because Bermudians love to entertain and the local cocktails are abundant. I encourage all visitors and guest workers to take it all in, all of it.

“Take in the parade, the floats, the music and the food, and have yourself an amazing Bermuda day.

“Bermudians really are some of the most friendly, hospitable people in the world.”

The post Giving Back appeared first on RG Magazines.

PHC Majorettes and Drum Corps was founded in 2002 by director Tawana Lee and her mother, Bettyann Nolan, after the closure of Warwick United Majorettes, who had been in existence since 1970.

Their aim was precise. Keep the majorette and drum corps tradition active, and build a programme rooted in community, connected to Pembroke Hamilton Club, and shaped by family leadership and hard work.

The organisation took shape during a period when many Bermudian families were looking for stability and positive options for youth. There were broader social concerns, including anxiety about crime, limited policing resources, and uncertainty in the education system. PHCMDC was built as more than a parade group. Fundraising was part of the foundation, so cost would not be the reason a young person sat out. Priorities were access, discipline and a place to develop talent outside the usual pathways.

The early years were organised and demanding. Tawana and her mother set the structure and built a well-supported leadership model. Rehearsals became the weekly anchor, with additional practices on Saturdays as major events approached.

Growth and success

PHCMDC’s first Bermuda Day Parade in May 2003 brought an unexpected surge. Membership grew to about 180 in the first year, and sections were set up to support different ages and skill levels, including Precious Pom Poms, Junior Cutie Majorettes, Senior Diva Majorettes, Fabulous Flags, and the Dynamic Drum Corps.

Like many Black community organisations building programmes with limited resources, PHCMDC had to solve practical problems as it grew. The demolition of the club hall and bar made it harder to coordinate rehearsals. Temporary spaces were utilised, including Spice Valley Middle School and the Bermuda Industrial Union Hall. The Drum Corps faced limitations due to noise and storage needs, which led to creative arrangements at Tawana’s home and full-group outdoor practices.

By 2005, the group’s standards were being recognised. PHCMDC won Best Uniform in the Dance Groups category at the Bermuda Day Parade, remembered for its pink and lime green costumes. PHCMDC also became the first Bermudian majorette and drum corps to perform aboard the Carnival Cruise Line Fascination. The group travelled to Orlando for Disney World’s musical parade and workshops and performed at venues including Wet ‘n Wild and Universal Studios.

Travel was never just a trip. It became part of the training. PHCMDC marched in the Washington, DC Independence Day Parade, completing the route in intense heat without breaks, an experience leaders continue to reference when teaching endurance, focus and commitment.

At home, PHCMDC has remained a steady presence in Bermudian cultural life. The group has performed at the Annual Gombey Festival, the Bermuda Agriculture Exhibition and the Bermuda Day, Labour Day and Christmas parades. They have brought performances to senior residences, churches, school fairs, sports events and community celebrations.

Each term, preparation becomes visible in the Cedar Hill neighbourhood through practice marches, which effectively provides a mini parade for elders and residents who may not be able to attend the real thing. The relationship with the community stays grounded in real contact.

Over time, PHCMDC has adjusted to changes in what draws young people, without abandoning its core identity. Traditional majorettes and the drum corps remain central, while additional sections have created more entry points, including Ribbon Dancers, Hoop Twirlers, flag dancers and pom pom groups. The approach is practical. Build confidence, develop performance habits and allow members to find where they fit while staying connected to the broader team.

Sustaining the programme has also depended on relationships and community support. PHCMDC has maintained a relationship with Enstar Bermuda, with support tied to equipment needs and leadership development, and has worked with drum teacher Nick Wadson, offering music theory and practical drum lessons.

Tawana Lee’s leadership is central to the culture. She describes her role as wider than directing routines. It includes mentoring, solving problems, building confidence and setting expectations that young people can carry beyond performance.

That impact shows up in the stories of members who have moved into wider opportunities. Divine Turner began as a Precious Pom Pom girl, carried that foundation into cheerleading and performance in the United States, and is now a professional dancer for the Atlanta Hawks. Aden Peets joined the Drum Corps young, earned the PHC Scholarship, pursued music production, and now teaches music in Bermuda while working with the Department of Culture.

PHCMDC has also invested in continuity through its Future Leaders Programme, where mentees spend a year learning under an established leader.

Familiar challenges

Funding has not been consistent, visibility has often been tied too narrowly to Bermuda Day, and membership declined as dance groups expanded and traditional majorette culture became less common. PHCMDC responded with outreach and education, including school presentations and Heritage Month engagements, introducing young people to a tradition many had never seen up close. A 2022 collaboration and fundraising campaign with Cassine provided timely support and helped strengthen the organisation’s ability to keep operating.

Some moments capture what PHCMDC represents. Tawana highlights performances at White Hill Field before the club’s demolition and at the Shelly Bay Extravaganza in 2010, when the group surprised audiences by having majorettes transition into drummers and present an original drum composition. In June 2025, she returned to Shelly Bay Field and performed on drums alongside her three sons. For many in the crowd, it was more than a performance. It was a statement about family, tradition and the way Black community organisations pass culture forward through participation.

As PHCMDC looks toward its 25th anniversary in 2027, Tawana’s vision includes building a full instrumental band. She is inviting woodwind players, percussionists, singers, and anyone committed to music and tradition to be part of that milestone. She also wants to keep strengthening the Future Leaders Programme.

PHCMDC’s story sits within a larger Bermudian legacy. Black community organisations have long carried culture, created structure for young people, and built spaces where talent can be trained and protected. PHC Majorettes and Drum Corps is part of that legacy because it has kept showing up, term after term, building discipline, building confidence and maintaining a tradition visible in public life.

• Bermuda is proud of all our Majorette groups. If you would like your group to feature in RG Mags, email [email protected]

The post Tradition, discipline, opportunity appeared first on RG Magazines.

The colour of my new clothes that were bought specifically for going to the parade. The colour of the tents that lined the side of the avenue (not to mention all the camping spots). The colour of the water on that first “real” day of the swimming season. The colour of the majorette or dance troop outfits at the parade (as an aside I still LOVE the sparkly outfits even now). The colour of all the flowers and fronds used to make the parade floats. The brightly coloured Gombey outfits, as well as the myriad of colours of the paper bills thrown to them to thank them for their dancing and drumming. The sweet hue of either church drink (a sickeningly sweet fruit punch and ginger beer mix for kiddums) or swizzle (for the non-kid drinkers) that is served no matter whose tent you strolled into. Even the food was brightly coloured – the purple beet salad, the white or pale yellow of potato salad, the reddish brown of BBQ chicken. I would go on in this vein a bit more but now I’m hungry.

So. Many. Colours.

This specific day, more than any other holiday, truly encapsulates Bermuda – as an island nation, as a country with a rich and varied heritage, as a people that valued, and still value, diversity. In a word, our colours.

I didn’t think then of everything that went into making Bermuda Day so beautiful, so fun. I didn’t have to. As a parent, though, the logistics of this single day, the working of the machine… well, let’s just say, I really appreciate the work my parents put into making the magical quality of this day seem so seamless for us.

Ever try to go grocery shopping the day before a holiday, and this holiday in particular? I tell you, it is a supreme exercise in patience. As we all know, Bermudians tend to lose their shopping minds before any holiday, any storm, any weekend… how about we just say, any “event”. Try to find cute outfits for your kids the week up to Bermuda, I dare you. You better know somebody. Try to find milk 48 hours before? Yup, there’s only going to be the light green kind left. There will not be a camping lantern, or batteries for that matter, to be found outside of that table near the front of Gorham’s. I’m not a huge fan of shopping at the best of times, never mind then when it involves more than a half-hour’s wait to get to the cash register. At best! And that’s just for the stuff you need to then start to make the food… which takes forever and a day. At the very least, forever and several days.

There’s a lot that goes into preparing for this holiday as an adult. As an adult that wants to make sure Bermuda Day will be as colourful and fun for your kids, the same way it was when you were a kid.

Every minute of frustration? When your youngest walks out of her bedroom wearing a hotchpotch outfit of a sparkly purple shirt, plaid shorts, with a cheeky smile and is totally ready to shine her own colours – totally worth it.

The post Diary of a Frazzled Mom appeared first on RG Magazines.

There’s no anger or bitterness in the wonderful documentary about the Bermudian icon’s trailblazing life – just a quiet sense of satisfaction that he helped create a better world for the people that came next.

That isn’t to say Best pulls any punches in Dan Egan’s Transforming the Beautiful Game ― The Clyde Best Story.

But when he recounts the horrendous incidents that punctuated his dazzling footballing career, he does so with matter-of-fact calmness; rather than waste energy condemning the villains, he reflects on his love for the people that supported him.

These were not trivial incidents.

There was the time he received a letter from someone threatening to throw acid in his face at an upcoming match, which prompted his teammates to form a human shield around him as he entered the pitch.

“They were in my corner,” Best recalls in the film. “I loved them guys like brothers because they made sure I was comfortable and was able to do my job.”

Or the moment he got tired of the monkey noises from Everton supporters and decided to show them what he could do by scoring a spectacular goal.

“After that, all the monkey chants stopped. They started to applaud.”

He gently chuckles at the memory.

Mental strength

Best has shared his stories many times before, and his messaging is always consistent. Don’t give up. Believe in your talent. Seek the positives.

The Clyde Best Story highlights how this attitude underpinned Best’s career, from playing as a boy against men for Somerset Trojans, to his audacious trip to London for a trial at West Ham United as a 17-year-old in 1968, which resulted in him becoming a pioneering Black player in English football, and later in the Dutch top flight and North American Super League.

The way he handled rampant racism inspired some of the greatest names in British football, including his colleagues at West Ham and a whole generation of Black footballers.

Geoff Hurst, a teammate at West Ham who won the World Cup for England, says: “I can’t recall him saying much about it, or really getting disillusioned by it. I’m sure he must’ve been inside, but he never showed that.”

Best’s sister Marie suggests Hurst was right.

“He used to call constantly my mom and my dad,” she says. “He wanted to come home because he was being treated badly.

“If it was left to my mom, he would have come home. But because of my dad … he encouraged him to stay.”

The story of Best’s father is one of the most poignant segments of the documentary. Marie tells how Best Sr, originally from Barbados, was one of the few survivors after a merchant marine ship was torpedoed off Bermuda.

“Coming from that kind of environment, he knew how to stick to whatever he set out to do.”

Best evidently inherited the doggedness. Most of all, he wanted to abide by his father’s instruction to pave the way for future Black players. He knew that if he ‘mouthed off’ about his mistreatment he would not last long, and others would be less likely to get their chance.

His insistence on showing the other cheek wasn’t just for the benefit of Clyde Best. It was for the sake of all Black footballers. Legends of the English game including Ian Wright, John Barnes, Viv Anderson and Les Ferdinand share their gratitude in the documentary.

Wright, who wore the Number 8 shirt in his Arsenal days as a tribute to Best, declares: “My career probably doesn’t happen if Clyde Best doesn’t happen.”

The road ahead

The film also charts the evolution of racism in Britain. There’s a haunting clip of 1970s TV character Alf Garnett hurling vile abuse at Best at West Ham’s Upton Park, which serves as a reminder of how deeply racism was ingrained within British popular culture at that time. Over the next couple of decades, Black players had bananas thrown at them on the pitch, and bullets and razor blades sent to them in the post.

Racism has still not gone away today: British supporters might not make monkey chants anymore, but booing can often be heard when Black players take the knee to make a public stand against racism.

Ferdinand points to statistics showing that nearly half of today’s Premier League footballers are Black – but the number of them who proceed with management careers is comparatively tiny. Barnes makes a compelling case about the need for greater discussion about the roots of racism in society.

Yet when Best was recently interviewed about the lack of coaching opportunities for Blacks, his response was typically upbeat: Black coaches should never give up; those that get a chance must show what they can do; things will get better.

Best’s footballing excellence, incredible mental strength and compulsion to go where nobody else had gone before enabled him to build a magnificent legacy that put Bermuda on the map and transformed Britain’s national sport.

“My plan was to do big things, and I done it,” he concludes at the end of the film.

“I would hope that a lot of the kids of colour that saw me playing were able to say, ‘Hey, I’m going to do what I see that guy doing,’”

Wright, Barnes, Ferdinand, Anderson, Shaun Goater, Nahki Wells and thousands more can vouch for that.

The footballing world will forever be grateful.

SEPARATE PANEL – please use high up the page if possible

‘I did it for Bermuda’

Transforming the Beautiful Game ― The Clyde Best Story has won widespread international acclaim since its release in April.

But speaking with Local Legacies at the Bermuda premiere at City Hall, Best explained it’s not just about him.

“Everything I have ever done in my career, it wasn’t for me – it was for Bermuda,” he told us.

“The most important thing about this film is our young people. I want them to understand it doesn’t matter what size your country is. What matters is whether you are willing to do your best to be a success.

“Coming from a place the size of Bermuda, as a 17-year-old, and finding my way in the English game – that’s the best legacy to have.

“I’m glad I had the peace of mind to do it.”

The post REVIEW: Legacy of a legend appeared first on RG Magazines.

What was hailed by the late James A. Ziral, writing in The Bermudian, as “the largest military defence utilisation of money, manpower and materials in nineteenth century Bermuda,” has become a cultural hub, cruise ship destination and one of Bermuda’s most visited tourist attractions.

Walking around Dockyard today, visitors can marvel at the imposing Commissioner’s House, former Cooperage, Victualling Yard and Keep, which now house restaurants, shops, Dolphin Quest and the National Museum of Bermuda.

Behind these huge stone monuments however, lie stories not just of military might, but also of human strength, misery and skill.

What did it take, for example, to construct such fortifications and undertake the work required of a Royal Naval Dockyard throughout the turbulent 1800s and early 1900s? Who were the people that physically transformed what had been wooden wharves and storehouses into one of the best examples of imperial naval architecture and engineering in the world?

Early labourers

“The adequate supply of labour was one of the greatest threats to Bermuda’s imperial development,” wrote Anna McKay, then a collaborative doctoral student at the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, and the University of Leicester, in a 2018 article for the NMM.

The Royal Navy had acquired Ireland Island in 1809, after the American Revolution meant the loss of naval bases along the United States’ eastern seaboard. Initially, contracted labourers were brought over from England, and in 1810, wrote Ms McKay, “enslaved Black men from Bermuda appeared in the Dockyard account books.”

As locals, she added, “they provided expert knowledge and experience but did not have any choice in the matter, nor did they receive wages of their own.”

French and American prisoners of war also worked at the Dockyard, as did enslaved refugees who came to Bermuda from America.

In 1823, she continued, “the construction of the Dockyard was greatly enhanced… by the arrival of convicts.”

They were housed in unsanitary prison hulks, moored off the Dockyard and St. George’s, and worked there until 1863.

“If they behaved well, convicts could be pardoned or take a ‘ticket-of-leave’ in the Australian colonies. They were not allowed to settle on the island as residents objected to this.”

For those working at the Dockyard during this period, conditions were harsh. In addition to suffering from exposure to the elements and injury from the back-breaking work, many suffered damaged eyesight caused by light reflecting off the white stone, and, explained Ms McKay, yellow fever epidemics “frequently wiped out scores of convicts and military personnel.”

Dockyard apprentices

While the horrendous circumstances of those early workers make for grim reading, there was a more positive labour legacy that emerged from the Dockyard. The Dockyard apprenticeship programme trained generations of young men as master tradesmen, including carpenters, plumbers, electricians, welders, engine fitters and shipwrights.

In her July 19^th 2023 Royal Gazette article, ‘The Dockyard Apprentices’, historian, Cecille Snaith-Simmons, wrote: “In 1844, a racially integrated school opened in the Dockyard to provide general and technical education for the children of Admiralty employees.”

One hundred years later, the British Admiralty opened the school to Bermudians in an apprenticeship programme. In 1950, when the Dockyard closure was announced, the final group of 49 apprentices were sent to Portsmouth, England, to complete their education.

This provided an employment lifeline at a time when the Dockyard’s closure meant many Bermudians lost their jobs and businesses.

The ‘Bermuda Family Scrapbook’ section of the NMB website includes a number of personal recollections from those whose family members had been Dockyard Apprentices.

Angela Fraser-Pitcher shared the story of her father, Harcourt “Jack” Fraser, who went to Portsmouth in 1950 to complete his training as a plumber.

“He returned to Bermuda in 1954 and was employed by Burrows Junius H Plumbing Ltd until he joined the HM prisons Service in 1971 as a prison officer having responsibility for plumbing.”

Another submission highlights marine engineer, Edward William “Buster” Gibbons, who also went to Portsmouth in 1950, met his wife there, and moved back to Bermuda in October 1963 where he worked in the Dockyard.

“I remember as a child going to Dockyard with my dad,” recalled his daughter, Beverley McLean. “You had to check in with a security guard at the entrance. A lot of the buildings, which are now shops, were workshops for the Dockyard.”

She continued: “He was rarely idle and built many household items. He even built himself a couple of boats!”

The future of Dockyard

While history has always celebrated military success, the personal histories of those who built and worked in the Dockyard are the focus of its future.

“Dockyard plays an essential role in Bermuda’s collective memory and civic life,” said Elena Strong, NMB executive director.

“Heritage research shows that museums are particularly important for small island communities in providing space to engage with contested and difficult histories. For Bermuda, this includes confronting legacies of enslavement, colonialism and inequality.”

Looking to the future, she said, “requires moving beyond static preservation towards inclusive, emotionally resonant, and research-led interpretation.”

This means “shifting interpretation from monuments to lived experience. Its story must be told not only as one of military engineering, but as a complex Atlantic World site shaped by enslavement, colonial labour, migration, resistance, and global exchange.”

At present, she said, much of the Dockyard’s interpretation is concentrated within the museum, however she would like this to change.

The future, she said, lies in “developing layered, flexible forms of interpretation, using discreet signage, digital tools, art, and storytelling that respect Dockyard’s operational nature and historic environment while helping visitors understand the history embedded in the landscape”.

The museum also envisions Casemates as a centre for Atlantic World Studies, which, Ms Strong said, “recognises that Bermuda’s heritage is both a local responsibility and a global contribution.”

She hopes that those whose ancestors built and worked in the Dockyard will become “active partners in shaping how its history is told”.

The post Dockyard’s human legacy appeared first on RG Magazines.

The world-class triathlete was appointed Dame Commander of the British Empire for her services to sport in Bermuda following a gold medal performance in the women’s triathlon at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

The medal was Bermuda’s first gold at an Olympics, and second medal overall, after boxer Clarence Hill’s bronze at the 1976 Summer Games in Montreal.

Dame Flora, a five-time Olympian, also won gold medals in women’s triathlon at the 2018 and 2022 Commonwealth Games, and is a 12-time world champion.

Three years prior to her Olympic gold medal victory in 2021, she set up The Flora Fund to provide grants to aspiring and talented athletes to achieve excellence in a sport of their choice.

Administered via the Bermuda Foundation, the programme gives bursaries to individual athletes, and grants to sporting organisations. The Flora Fund considers the social and economic barriers facing an athlete’s family when determining eligibility for funding.

Since its inception, The Flora Fund has raised more than $200,000.

Dame Flora told Local Legacies: “The Flora Fund has grown slowly over the years and the goal with that is to give back to the community that’s given me so much and help young athletes pursue their sporting goals – how big or how small they are, doesn’t matter.

“Sport has opened so many doors for me, both professionally and personally. It’s a great thing to be involved in, whether that is pursuing it as a career or pursuing it because you enjoy it, a way to meet new people — and of course, the health benefits that come alongside it.”

Dame Flora, 38, is on the final leg of her competitive athletic career and is considering the future of the Flora Fund.

“I am having a few conversations now to see which direction I want to take it, where it would best fit within the community in Bermuda, and exploring what is possible.

“It will always be sport-focused and whether it goes more in a high-performance direction or whether it is more community-based – getting people fit and active – I hope that The Flora Fund continues to grow and can have a larger impact in the Bermuda community.”

The Flora Factor

Steven Petty has witnessed Dame Flora’s journey toward establishing her legacy, beginning with winning her Clarien Ironkids age group for eight consecutive years.

The former president and co-founder of the Bermuda Triathlon Association along with wife Patty, Jim Butterfield, and the late John Cash said: “In the World Triathlon Grand Finals in Lausanne, Switzerland, in 2006 she won a silver medal in the female junior elite category; she had announced her arrival.

“Flora continues to inspire the younger triathletes in Bermuda, and we now refer to the ‘Flora Factor’ that has led to the tremendous success of the size and growth in numbers of kids participating in the local youth development programme.

“The success they are having in regional competitions [overall points leading country in the Carifta Triathlon Championships in Tobago 2025] individually and as a team is surely commendable.

“The Flora factor has not only inspired the junior triathletes but also the parents who have obtained official and coaching credentials to assist in a much more meaningful way.

“She made everyone realise that anything is possible even from a little island in the middle of the Atlantic. Whenever she’s in Bermuda, she always makes sure she’s accessible and spends some time with the younger triathletes.”

Mr Petty said Dame Flora’s win at the 2016 World Triathlon Grand Final in Cozumel, Mexico was the catalyst for Bermuda to host World Triathlon Series events in 2018, 2019 and 2022, two of which she won before adoring crowds.

He said: “Long may her legacy live on.”

Pick a goal and go for it!

Dame Flora said: “I would want my sporting legacy to be that young Bermudians should believe in and are inspired to chase big goals — that competing on the world stage, whether that’s to pursue sports, the arts, going to a particular university, whatever big goal and dream they have, that they’re not limited because they come from a small island, but are empowered because they come from a small, supportive community.”

She hopes that her sporting performances inspire Bermudians to get active and to want to have a healthy lifestyle.

“That doesn’t mean they have to go winning medals at world championships. It’s to be inspired, to pick a goal, training for it and going to do that event. I hope my sporting career can inspire others to want to get active and to set a lofty goal for themselves and to pursue it.”

Dame Flora said it is important that the island celebrates the successes of fellow Bermudians.

“It is a nice reminder for young Bermudians to see what others have done before them and know what’s possible and that they can go on to achieve great things.

“Bermuda has started to do that with the various things across the island celebrating my gold medal win. You also see murals of other sporting stars around the island, which I think are really powerful and impactful because they’re daily reminders of what Bermudians have gone on to do, whether that’s Clyde Best, Nahki Wells, Clarence Hill – there are many out there and celebrating them is important.

“I am grateful that my legacy is being celebrated and hopefully it all leads to inspiring somebody to get fit, to get active, and to chase a big goal.”

The post Dame Flora’s golden legacy appeared first on RG Magazines.

I was pretty sure, even then, that these typically ‘blood relative titles’ were not being used ‘correctly’ – and it confused me a bit.

As I grew, however, I found that these ‘family ties’ were very advantageous, and that all the new people I’d meet along the way had similar ties. This, as we will see, was resistance.

Theodore Francis II was one those I would meet in the 1990s – well before he became an Associate Professor of History and Global Studies at Abeline Christian University in Texas, and one of Bermuda’s preeminent keepers of African history and culture.

I had the privilege of sitting and reasoning with Professor Francis over the impact that African culture has on the way Bermudians approach daily life today. He offered a powerful lens through which to understand African heritage – not as something distant or abstract, but as something deeply embedded in everyday Bermudian life.

“When we overstand African culture, and when we have the conversation, sometimes we want to think about this literal artefact – this literal thing – like, we cook chicken like this; some mans over in Nigeria or over in Ghana or Congo, cook chicken the exact same way. Therefore, one equals one – African culture,” he explained.

“But the more I’ve been thinking and reflecting on it – it’s not just the material aspects of African culture that we see today, but the immaterial aspects of it.”

His perspective challenges the common tendency to define culture only through visible, material expressions such as food, clothing or music. While these are important, he argues they are only part of the story.

Instead, Professor Francis emphasises what he describes as the immaterial aspects of culture: values, social structures, and ways of relating to one another that have endured despite centuries of displacement and oppression.

Kinship networks

At the centre of this is the concept of kinship networks. In many pre-colonial African societies, identity was not defined narrowly by the nuclear family, but by expansive networks of relatives and community members. These systems were foundational to political, economic and social life in great African empires such as Mali and Songhai. Even though enslaved Africans were violently stripped of their homelands and formal structures, these underlying principles of kinship survived.

In Bermuda, these traditions evolved into something both familiar and profound. It is seen in the way community members refer to close family friends as ‘cousin,’ ‘aunt’ or ‘uncle,’ regardless of blood relation. It is reflected in the strong emphasis on gatherings – whether for celebrations, church events or moments of mourning and reflection – where entire communities come together as one. These practices are often labelled simply as ‘Bermudian culture,’ but as Professor Francis points out, they are deeply rooted in African ways of being.

“That’s kinship network – and I feel that’s firmly African. That’s firmly African in a context of the middle passage slave trade piece, and the ways in which you’re trying to rebuild what’s lost. With the overstanding that within this West, the Americas, Caribbean, Latin America – wherever you drop us locationally – what our greatest strength was, was one another. Not necessarily the material environment, because we were brought here as objects of wealth for the system; we were considered property.”

This is an insistence on community as culture; and it is a critical insight. For generations, Black Bermudians have been told – implicitly or explicitly – that they lack a distinct culture, especially when compared to European traditions that are often held up as the standard.

Kilts, bagpipes, royal European lineages – these are easily recognized as markers of culture. Meanwhile, African-derived practices, especially those that are less tangible, have been overlooked or undervalued.

This imbalance is not accidental. It is the result of historical processes that sought to decontextualise African people from their heritage. Professor Francis references the idea that when people are disconnected from their cultural roots and taught to view themselves through an external lens, they may begin to devalue their own traditions. This phenomenon has had lasting effects in Bermuda and across the African diaspora.

Legacy of resistance

Yet, despite these challenges, African cultural continuity has persisted. It survived the Middle Passage, where enslaved Africans, thrown together from different ethnic groups, began to rebuild community under unimaginable conditions. ‘Shipmates’ became family. Shared struggle created new bonds. These kinship networks were not just a means of survival – they were a form of resistance.

In Bermuda, this legacy lives on. It is present in the rhythm of Gombey drums that make our bodies move instinctively. It is in the communal spirit that permeates and defines our neighbourhoods and social life. It is in the resilience and creativity of a people who, despite centuries of marginalisation, have maintained a strong sense of identity.

However, as Professor Francis notes, the issue is not whether these African influences exist – it is whether they are recognised. Many Bermudians grow up immersed in these cultural practices without explicitly identifying them as African.

“A fish doesn’t know that the water is wet,” he quips – which is a folksy way of saying that when culture is so deeply ingrained, it can become invisible.

This lack of recognition, however, has consequences. Without a clear understanding of the origins and significance of these traditions, it becomes easier to dismiss or undervalue them. It also limits the ability to build a sense of pride rooted in historical awareness.

So, what can be done to strengthen this connection and foster greater pride in our African heritage?

Education is a crucial starting point. Integrating African and Bermudian history more fully into school curricula can help young people understand the depth and richness of their cultural inheritance. This includes not only teaching about slavery but also highlighting the achievements of African civilisations and the ways their legacies continue today.

Indeed, teaching children why their mother’s friend becomes their auntie, and that indelible connection to the ways African civilisations built community in the past, can potentially spark tremendous pride.

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