I WAS in conversation with my partner over the weekend when the topic of our respective racial backgrounds came up. When we were finished tracing our ancestry, we joked over the fact that any child of ours would have all six strands of the archetypal Guyanese racial heritage.
The above anecdote was one I was prepared to share during my scheduled appearance on the Cuffy 250 organisation show, African Drums, last Sunday. Unfortunately, on Sunday morning I received a message from the producer that the show was off. Later in the day, I read an article by the venerable Dr. David Hinds in his column. Hinds’Sight. The following

paragraph stood out:
“I was part of a group that unsuccessfully tried this past week to put together a panel for an African-grounded TV show on the issues arising out of the Garret-Nicholas issue. The show collapsed because the young invitees either felt the issue was not important, or that they could not speak on an all-Black panel—they insisted on getting Indian-Guyanese on the panel. Here are young Black people who do not feel confident speaking publicly among themselves on an issue that threatens to lynch a young black woman—they are seemingly afraid of articulating an African-Guyanese perspective on the issue.”
I realised immediately that I was in part responsible. When I was contacted by the producer last week, I immediately agreed to appear, and then indicated that my preference was that there be a diverse panel to discuss this issue, an Indo-Guyanese in particular. Apparently, I was not the only guest who shared this view. In his column, Dr. Hinds goes on to offer the following diagnosis: “While it is laudable to reach for a multi-ethnic perspective, that perspective would be hollow if it is not informed by a sense of groundedness in identity. Our multiracial icon, Walter Rodney, was deeply grounded in a sense of his Blackness. You simply can’t feel for others in a deep, ethno-racial sense if you do not feel the same for yourself.”

It is not a diagnosis I disagree with in general, only when it applies to me. My perspective on personal racial identity has always been simple. Biologically speaking, the label of ‘African’ or ‘Afro-Guyanese’ would be a nullification of a complex ancestry that includes ancestors from India, Portugal, indigenous ancestors from the space called Guyana, in addition to Africa and likely (other) parts of Europe. As a writer, this is a truth that cannot be ignored or glossed over.

My mother’s family in particular, has a strong Portuguese background – her mother was born a Teixeira and married a man named Gomes, both of whose ancestry was infused with African from Angola or Mozambique and Madrassa Indian. During Carifesta, I met an indigenous woman from Dominica who commented that my own indigenous heritage was clear from my broad face, something for which I have my father’s family from both sides to thank. The African ancestry in me is clearly there, in my hair (and perhaps other places), but it is part of a complex strand of genetic gifts that I value altogether, none in isolation.
But racial/ethnic identity is of course not restricted to genetic origin. Indeed, race is primarily a sociocultural and political construct – a Black man in sub-Saharan Africa is more likely to be defined by tribal identity than the colour of his skin. And here again is where any legitimate claim I might seek to make on African/Black identity would be found severely wanting. African identity in Guyana is possessed of a rich memetic legacy, shaped by shared experiences and the passing down of cultural traditions from generation to generation. It is wealth that I, in my upbringing, never inherited. I grew up in a working-class community called Tucville Terrace, where the most acute expression of African identity, cumfah, was treated with suspicion and derision by most of the residents. There is a sadness now when I think about the lost legacy of Ms. Sheilah and Ms. Glory, both of whom were repositories of a powerful African tradition that survived through the ages, but which died with them. The irony is that if there is any documented trace of their legacy, it is in a single story I wrote, The Blacka, in which I made a passing reference to that tradition.

It is not that I don’t have a sense of what the impact of the Blackness in my multiracial identity entails. While I am certain that political discrimination was the primary element of what I faced under the former administration, I have no doubt that there was a strong and vicious racist streak to it as well. Dr. Hinds rightfully raises the spectre of the racist hegemony that existed only a few years ago, one that neutered and stigmatised most genuine self-expression of Blackness or African identity. African self-identification in Guyana became associated with a carefully cultivated image of dysfunction and state-dependent mendicancy, in which each year you had a leering Minister of Culture handing out pittances for Emancipation month, while his governing party was carrying out a campaign of dehumanisation of Afro-Guyanese in the state media, this very paper in particular.
It wasn’t a coincidence, or careless language, when Dr. David Dabydeen – in the midst of the Caribbean Press fiasco – referred to local writers as ‘lazy and incompetent,’ myself in particular; these terms belonged to the same category of dog-whistle buzzwords being used in the state paper at the time to describe ‘PNC supporters,’ used interchangeably in editorials and letters with ‘Afro-Guyanese youth.’

This isn’t a context that I have been insensitive to or afraid of, but one that I had to find a simple way of responding to against my personal self-identification as a multiracial creature with a particularly diverse history – I grew my hair and continued to be very good at what I was good at– writing. Racism is a primarily visual prejudice and considering the racist hegemony was primarily anti-African, growing my hair (in conjunction with my complexion) was symbolic of my resistance to the perception of Africanness being peddled by the government at the time. It was particularly satisfying therefore when in 2013, my now trademark Afro in early bloom, I collected the Guyana Prize from then President Donald Ramotar, even though there was an otherwise complete boycott of the Prize Ceremony from the entire rest of the cabinet, including then Minister of Culture, Dr. Frank Anthony and Minister of Education, Priya Manickchand. Achievement associated with African identity (even if only expressed in visual terms) was directly anathema to what the PPP wanted to project at the time.
Recently, I watched a viral video online in which a Canadian woman representing a right wing organisation hurled abuse at Sikh Canadian politician Jagmeet Singh, implying that he was Muslim and complicit in promoting Islamic terrorism – Sikhism is in fact based on Hinduism. Singh did not correct her misperception and denied being Muslim. That was for Singh, a deliberate strategy, his appearance aiding in his solidarity with Muslims fighting prejudice, even though he could not identify as a Muslim.

On a personal level, I treasure my multiracial heritage and I refuse to value any aspect of it over the other. When it comes to the politics of race however, I have no issue in using the most obvious physical manifestation of that heritage, the Blackness, in battling and breaking down stereotypes, either way, even though I personally don’t believe I can legitimately claim the label of African or Afro-Guyanese. When I received an Achievement Award last year for my “commitment towards Development of Guyana and the African-Guyanese Community” last year, in my brief acceptance remarks, I made a note of acknowledging my diverse racial heritage.

For me, there is no accolade that I can receive, nor any discrimination that I can face, that could shift how I self-identify – my multiracial heritage, for me, prevents both a neutralisation of all various strands into one euphemistic amalgamation of ‘Guyaneseness’ (even as I believe that co-existing diversity is the critical characteristic of Guyanese national identity), as well as conscious hyper-representation of any single thread due to socio-political circumstance.

I agree with Dr. Hinds completely, that racial self-identification and self-love has to be a critical prerequisite for what so many of us have agreed to be a necessary national conversation on race. It’s one that has to be approached with deep honesty, integrity and self-reflection and while, yes, everyone at the table should engage from a starting point of racial self-love, multiracial self-love is as valid as any perspective there is.