Old Testaments
“When I agreed to testify against that man, I did it because Isaiah wanted me to. Because I needed to. Because a little distance lulls you into a false sense of security. Because the silent empty well I’d been falling down for years finally allowed me to scream.”
Reconnecting to Caribbean Folklore with “When We Were Birds”
It blends the stories from our ancestors — recollections from the enslaved, the indentured, and the colonial masters, as well as remnants of indigenous memory.
Don’t sleep on Caribbean Fantasy and Science Fiction
I’m partial to humans doing human things.
Among Flowers: A Journey with Jamaica Kincaid
Have you ever looked at a book, read its synopsis, and just knew it would be a book that would change your life?
Object Permanence
On the page, as in life, people (characters) have things that mean something to them; that come to symbolize things in the greater context of the story. For me, the key is not to force it (what a character’s thing is) but to discover it over the course of revisions.
What Can Story Do?
I’m not a scientist nor a politician, but, climate change is real and writing is how I process life.
Guyana, Venezuela, and Colonialism
Although the current lines dividing South America and the Caribbean were drawn by colonial powers and do not reflect the reality of the indigenous residents prior to colonisation, it is nevertheless important to recognise that the indigenous Caribbean people – in addition to the afro-Caribbean and indo-Caribbean people – living in the Essequibo region consider themselves Guyanese. This fact alone should warrant an end to the dispute.
Transnational Feminism and Gender-Based Violence
A world released from the vicious grip of gender-based violence demands building movements across borders and regions. It calls for us to agitate for Palestine’s liberation, to push for an end to the war in Sudan and assist those displaced by it, and to protest the neocolonial forces keeping the Democratic Republic of the Congo in conflict and its people exploited for resources that power our societies. It calls for us to stand with Guyana and the people of the Essequibo region – many of whom are indigenous – who are at risk of being uprooted from their homes in the face of potential annexation by Venezuela. It requires that we engage in direct action and work to elevate the Caribbean’s collective consciousness through education and the co-creation of feminist thought.
Coolieween
In the next series of images you will see, I work through the traces of these violent histories of Indo-Caribbean misogyny that have been left behind in our houses, songs, language, families, communities, and bodies.
Thriving Despite, Worlds-Shifting through Corona
Radical love in the time of Corona is making space for arms akimbo and mouth agape, for knee(s) bent and heartache, as we vacillate between dread, prayer, and protest, as we let go of how things were and how they should be.
Memory Games
Yuh wake up screaming, parched lips bitter from the tail-end of another nightmare…
In Chrysalis
There is a misconception that the love of a man is hard, reminiscent of a stone statue. They are harden, unmoving, craggy and as such brittle.
I Am Sitting
I’m tired of sitting. Now, I am standing up.
gaze
don’t you dare break her gaze
don’t your dare break the chain
the stories must live on
we don’t exist
it has come to my attention that we don't exist
we the colourful the fluid the bold the open the rule benders…
A Triptych on My Queerness
Even after all these years
I still scared to say these words in public,
still caustous
to let Gay spilt my teeth open
being straight
being straight was like living in a closet
I didn’t know was a closet
some wealthy person’s closet
with enough room and variety
to convince me I wasn’t trapped
Forgiveness
As Shea sat in the pew listening to Father Lewis preach about forgiveness, her mind wandered back to the trial. Fr. Lewis was getting into the throes of the sermon and showed no signs of letting up any time soon. She allowed her thoughts to drift.
NESTED
My gratitude for your kindness was never expressed
For I was too young to be grateful
Too young to care, understand, or appreciate
You blessed three little girls of color
And valued their mother, a loyal worker for years
Too LOUD
I spoke loud with my red dress on,
The one that had the split on the sides.
Yeah, that one.