Coolieween
The names listed here are just a mere fragment of the lists upon lists of diasporic Indo-Caribbean women who have been injured, harmed, and murdered at the hands of heteropatriarchal power – whether that be in the form of their parents, community members, or even intimate partners.
Colour Me Black
Black child's mother says her ears gave it away
The hint of shame on an otherwise perfect face
Good Hair
Good Hair speaks to the upliftment and love for all women of colour. The influence of colourism and hair type bias has been an ugly remnant of a social conditioning adopted from slavery that is still very much alive and well today.
Passing Through
It was not until my third affair (the wrench in my relationship with Despair), that I began souveniring. In some ways the habit snuck up on me and in some ways it did not. In some ways it was entirely haphazard, wild and almost beyond my control. In some ways, I was totally in control
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…
Belonging To Barbuda
Sally: You bring me here to ask foolish questions like that? You think anybody take time to tell enslaved people when and where they born? Many of us didn’t even know who bring us into this world, but not my children. I made sure that they grew up with me and that they knew their father.
Body Count
Because to me, it means nothing; it’s just a number
It gives me no validation nor brings me shame
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.
Un/furled
My doormmates whispered about “the lesbian book”. When I told my church youth group my mother had transferred me to an all girls boarding school the elder boys regaled everyone with tales about the lesbians there who used bottles as substitute dildos.
Fam Constellation - Me Kali
Everyone has to thrive in order for the system itself to thrive, every display of hate is only an unexpressed need to feel valid.
Generation Cry
Taitu Kai Goodwin. Taitu. Daughter of the Soil. Antigua Girls’ High School Alumna. Former Ambassador’s daughter. Miss Anguilla. Someone I knew. Taitu.
Ouroboros
Through all layers and fits it slithered
Though still I scrambled to look decent
Open Secrets
Since I last saw you I’ve been thinking. Thinking about you. Thinking about us, about home, about those kids whose journey mirrors yours and mine, A journey walking with fear.