In December 2019, I was in Barbados with my husband for the New Year’s Eve celebrations. Barbados for us has always been special. It has almost everything I miss from home, minus the deeply troubling trauma landmarks and heart-tugging memories. It was where my husband proposed 10 years ago and the only place he drives without a GPS, with an almost memorised route to Oistins Fish Market. Those memories are now eclipsed by a microaggression that year that left us both floored and myself in particular deeply hurt and traumatised.
What started off as a usual day with a simple request to have a breakfast bowl in my room so I could have my medication and breakfast in peace, ended in a 20-minute humiliating exchange that had everything to do with why guests who look like me can’t be trusted. The excuses and reasoning were beyond comprehension.
