YEARS ago I was privileged to see Rex Nettleford perform in his masterwork “Kumina”. He was in his sixties at the time.

If you knew nothing about him you would have been awed by this incredible performer who leapt and spun with the energy and agility of a man half his age. But even more impressive was the way he commanded the stage. So, like the Jamaican Diaspora around the world, I am mourning Professor Rex Nettleford.

It is easy to list his accomplishments, but what made Rex Nettleford iconic was the extent to which he countered some of the common stereotypes about Jamaica and Jamaicans.

The thing that struck me about him when I first met him was, here was a man who was coal black yet had risen to the very top of a Jamaican society where the lighter your skin, the more acceptable you were in certain circles.

He grew up in an era when a man of his skin colour would have had difficulty getting employment in a bank or any other white-collar job. He came of age when the two leading politicians of the era, Norman Manley and Alexander Bustamante, were brown-skinned men (and more respected by the black masses because of it).

Yet Nettleford wore his black skin like an imperial robe. He was “black and beautiful” before the phrase was invented.

To understand the measure of his achievements you have to acknowledge something that is rarely admitted publicly: he achieved all he did despite a poor rural background and despite his black skin in a society obsessed with class and skin colour.

The other significant thing about Rex Nettleford was that he was a true Renaissance man. There are plenty of Jamaican world-class academics, many extraordinary Jamaican activists and a host of international artistes, but there is nobody who demonstrates excellence in all three fields. And the striking thing about Rex Nettleford was that he did not compartmentalise his life. His academic work informed his activism and public service. They both informed his artistic work, and his artistic work reflected his intellect and his commitment to Jamaica. Perhaps because he was active in so many areas, his brain was as” sharp as a tack” right to the end.

But Rex Nettleford challenged Jamaican ideas of masculinity. The common idea of masculinity in Caribbean society is a man with a gun. Too much intellect (particularly in the era of dancehall) is frowned on. But Rex Nettleford was the intellectual par excellence and a dancer to boot. He was effortlessly masterful in any situation he found himself. Beautifully spoken, but emphatically a Jamaican man, he dismissed many a stereotype.

I knew Rex in many guises. I marvelled at his intellect and was astonished by his creative skills. He was a good friend of a favourite uncle. I would try to “touch base” with him whenever I was in Jamaica, if only over the telephone.

But the last time that I saw him in the flesh was at a conference in London to mark the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery in the British Empire, which he was attending in his capacity as a leading light in UNESCO.

He was charming, insightful and completely on top of current political events. Throughout his whole adult life, he was a man who turned heads when he entered a room. Jamaica will not see his like again.