I am but a spec in a system that churns along lubricated by the sweat, blood and tears of exploitation. I am, but one, of countless tortured souls. I stand alone, shivering, dying…limply resisting. I go against these entities that will not hear us. As they remain blinded by their own claim to moral rightness and self-aggrandizing, steeped in colonization, global racism and unrelenting abuse.
But I believe in change.
As I write piercing love letters to decolonization of international development…I have no strategy, no plan, no endgame, no desirable result. In fact, I may be misinterpreted as self-sabotaging for speaking out. How do you even begin to justify turning your back against a field for which you are uniquely and specifically qualified?
I can’t.
This now I acknowledge as I grieve. I have burned the remaining part of that bridge that held on from my side. I have danced in the flames. I am obsessive over the ashes – even those, I want to burn! There is a ritualistic instinct I follow to block any direct access to generate more nightmares.
*crazy dance.
I came across a T-shirt that made me laugh hysterically because it speaks so well to the current times. Fear no longer has a hold on me. What’s the worst that can happen? It already has….and here I am.
Colour in International Development 