The Last Word

The costumes from Guyana Carnival reminded me of the handbags from the diffusion line of Michael Kors.

When I was growing up, my dad had this three-minute rule for showers.

Absolutely nothing will grind my gears more than seeing Black and Brown people mourn or try to police other Black or Brown people into feeling some sort of sorrow for the death of Britain’s late queen.

Burning eyes, anxious fingers and what feels like small knots on the middle of my forehead are all signs that I need a digital detox.

Social media is such an unbelievably powerful tool. It can really be used as a force for good when it helps to bring people together, brings instant awareness of varying social issues (even if it’s for a hot minute) or displays virtual solidarity.

I feel scared most times when people call me a feminist and it’s not that the movement frightens me.

Managing relationships can be rocky particularly when they involve more than two parties. 

This summer in Europe has made me question if I was really once a child who was born and raised in the tropics.

Big weddings aren’t my cup of tea, but the truth is I adore the excitement and love seeing the ‘chaotic happiness’ that derives from them for other people.

The overshadowing of someone else’s feelings whether consciously or unconsciously with the concept of luring the other party to be optimistic is called toxic positivity.

Feminism, over the years, has become a useful marketing tool for many women-led businesses and companies in general.

Guyana has very progressive legislation regarding medical termination of pregnancy, yet for many abortion remains a shameful thing to talk about. 

I look forward to menopause. A life without periods is what I dream of.

I don’t have an Amazon account. I fear that if I get one, the convenience and affordability it encourages will ruin my very fragile relationship with brick and mortar shopping.

One of the greatest myths of capitalism is that the more choices available to us, the more advantaged we are and because we participate under a capitalist structure sometimes those choices can make us feel as if we are winning.

“2 Flaschen Ol pro haushalt!” (2 bottles of oil per household) reads the German sign in my local supermarket.

Lifeless, drained, beaten down. This is how you feel when you constantly mentally digest experiences that relate to racial trauma whether from direct or indirect experiences.

Poverty porn is a strategic tactic which often reveals itself in the form of photographs and videos in order to drum up support (often financial) and draw sympathy/interest from the public.

As much as I have gone on in the past about the importance of putting boundaries in place to protect one’s mental state, for the first time ever, two weeks ago, the opportunity presented itself where I had to be explicit about them.

The female body when pregnant has always been treated as something to conceal as if it isn’t going through the most beautiful experience.