Abstract
This visual essay explores a fragment of the journey to know our ancestors in their absence. The pregnant silences of archives, skewed by years of historical erasure and the remnants of colonial legacy, so often obscure our walk toward collective belonging and a deeper understanding of self as Caribbean people. Washerwoman (2018), the sculpture featured in the essay, is the product of an attempt to know our progenitors through the labor of our hands, silently working alongside theirs, across temporalities. We mourn the blurred edges of their photographs and pay homage to the mundane moments of their existence, so densely knitted together to create our own reality.
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