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.

The black woman has been shackled with the baggage of centuries of racial discrimination, religious and social control, censorship, as well as sexual repression.

This piece depicts a woman of African descent gazing directly at the viewer as tropical flowers, frozen in motion, waft past her face.

We've fought then, we fight now.

Who kyah hear, muss burn. And I'm

tired of that being us,

You hold dark secrets despite your mild fame.

Filled with shame, you cringe when you hear your name.

You were born of light, however.

I stand before you with great adoration for making it this far.

I know you think you have not made a drop in the ocean

but to the greater world you have

They are too upset to say it to you though

Because how can one gyal have so much power?

We learn to love the devils that hold the whip against us,

We mistake them as gods, accepting the laws they pass…

Waking up today felt like any other day until I realised that I could not leave the house anymore. Wait, no, that is untrue. I could leave, but only for the essentials they say.