The Last Word

Fashion appeals to me in different ways now. Even though there are usually at least five tabs open on my laptop that are related to fashion at any given time there is a growing reluctance to engross myself in fashions shows.

Silence is violence. Silence perpetuates violence and normalizes it. Like many, the news of the death of Andrea Bharatt in neighbouring Trinidad shook me.

The society I live in now is the furthest thing from perfect, but I would be stifling my conscience if I did not say that the one from which I migrated is deeply toxic.

Anti-blackness is everywhere in the fashion industry but some days it just feels more pronounced than others.

After four years, America is finally rid of its most divisive president.

I have never really examined why I have never been inclined to have children up until this current period in my life.

I took the decision two days before the new year broke to temporarily deactivate my Facebook and Instagram accounts; a digital detox is what health and wellness gurus call it.

It feels like something or the other happened this year to everyone.

It has been close to a month and I haven’t been on my bicycle nor have I engaged in any form of exercise.

Like most people across the globe, I was glued to my screen last week anxiously awaiting the outcome of the US elections.

I don’t like mysteries especially when pricing is involved. To this day I have never understood why businesses continuously publish and advertise items online in hope of capturing potential consumers but are reluctant to publicly display the prices.

Every joyous and celebratory moment this year has felt like a forced attempt at retaining some amount of normalcy.

About nine years ago, I remember being deeply distressed at not being able to do a fashion internship I had secured.

With the death toll continuing to climb and an upsurge of COVID-19 cases globally, the future can seem bleak for many who have been navigating new businesses this year.

I have a very complex relationship with my hair. I love what it used to be and though I am actively trying to get it back there, it sometimes feels like it would be much easier to allow myself to get side tracked on the days it doesn’t co-operate.

Shame is unpleasant and uncomfortable. It can fill you with so much humiliation that sometimes if feels better to just ignore the incident that has caused it.

The deaths of Joel, Isaiah and Haresh are still fresh on my mind, even though I feel less guilty about being alive this week in comparison to last week.

It has been a painful week for all Guyanese. The murders of Joel and Isaiah Henry and Haresh Singh left me feeling depleted, to the point where I feel guilty of even thinking of experiencing any form of joy in the foreseeable future.

The news coming out of America as it relates to violence against Black people for the past three months in particular has been extremely traumatic to acknowledge.

This past week has been awkward. My sleeping patterns have been out of whack and it felt like I subjected myself to an obscene amount of unnecessary screen time out of sheer boredom.