This morning I watched Kamala be sworn in. The first woman. The first black woman they say... but she’s brown too. The first woman of south Asian descent. But what that means to me... I saw someone with my heritage. Black and brown. I felt it on a personal level. In that way it’s different... Continue Reading →
Everyone is going to be writing about this year. As it draws to an end. Thats not really what I want to write about. I don't think I really ever stopped to consider it all. It was just too overwhelming. As I sit here, dreading my last Boxing Day in retail, picturing trying to avoid... Continue Reading →
Is this grief? I don't feel like eating, I didn't want to go to sleep. For hours all I could do was scroll through social media, CNN in the background. I was searching, all posts, all updates, all memes. Sometimes, we just can't look away, but this is different. I'm seeking it out, and I... Continue Reading →
Cooking and music became the way through which we harnessed the spirit of where we come from. Watching my mom and my sister in the kitchen, dancing and currying, smiling and laughing, and sharing stories of home, that's where I truly gained a connection to Trinidad, and a way of identifying with my heritage.
The last 2 pieces I've written are very racially charged. At this time it's the only way I know how to express what I'm feeling and experiencing. But I don't want to turn off particular readers. I am a lover of humanity, and all humans regardless of race, class or creed. I don't want anyone... Continue Reading →
I wish it could be as simple as an argument between neighbours, but in becoming aware of my colour, and what that means for me in society, these types of encounters have political, racial and power dynamics that I just can't ignore. In fact I have no other way to experience things because this is the world I live in.
At what point is an apology necessary, versus it being demeaning, and something we do only because we have been conditioned by society to bow our heads, smile, push our manners and politeness forward.
The house is a metaphor for your life, and what we always come back to is the basement, our childhood traumas, the role our parent's played and what they modelled in terms of relationships, our early experiences, and the things we bury so deep we never give a second thought to. All of these things require us to go through the process of healing...
Not long after, I emerged from the bedroom. Having finished my piece, I felt relieved, and calmed. As usual, the writing process put me in a completely different state. I'm still amazed by the conversations we can have together when a problem arises.
Today was an emotionally draining day. It's hard trying to get through the day with a knot in your throat, and a retail smile on your face. Tears surfacing, but never over flowing, all the while your mind is on this loop, of the things you need to process, the things you want to write... Continue Reading →