Today I attended the Latin America and Caribbean Studies Graduate conference at York University and sat listening to presentations made on the Grenada revolution by young Grenadian sisters; Kadon Douglas, Marie Benjamin, Kimalee Phillip & Malaika Brooks-Smith Lowe. Their presentations explored the cultural, social and political trauma of the Grenada Revolution and at certain points, I am could barely hold back the tears that threatened when the full impact of what we have lost as a people was visited on me.

The deafening silence that surrounds the 4 years which preceded the invasion/intervention by the US forces has robbed me and persons like me, born post revolution,  of an opportunity to celebrate the spirit of our nation. We are a people who embody the true definition of community and nowhere was that more on display than during the revolution. Grenadians worked hand in hand to build the land we considered ours and were willing to pick up arms to defend it if the need be. Yet that story has not been told, instead we are fed stories of gratitude for the ‘rescue mission’ by the US forces even marked by a national ‘Thanksgiving’ holiday (!) and positioned as a nation that could not handle its own affairs.

It also brought into sharp focus either how little we as members of the community know about symbolism and imagery or how we have been trained to forget. Today I learnt that the white monument pictured here which resides close to the recently renamed Maurice Bishop Airport is a dedication to the deaths of the American soldiers in the invasion.

I, who was born and raised in Grenada for 21 years and who now self identifies as a Grenadian activist was totally unaware of its significance until today.  This bit of information immediately brought to mind how ironic or perhaps deliberate is the placement of this monument, particularly as the building of this airport in partnership with the Cubans was allegedly one of the reasons that President Regan ordered the invasion of Grenada. Based on the fear that said airport, then under construction would be used as a launching pad for possible socialist attacks on the US.

I literally felt sick to the pit of my stomach for what we as a people have either knowingly or unknowingly allowed to happen. I am writing this piece, tears flowing ..My questions are these:

How have we allowed this to happen?

How have we allowed our memory of the revolution (admittedly flawed) but nevertheless a community activity to be obliterated by the US invasion?

Why are those of us who know not speaking?

Or why are we whispering about this time in our history rather than speaking boldly about it, flaws and all?

Why have we allowed the hope and pride of the revolution to die?

And how does not knowing make us complicit in continuing the silence?

Much more on my mind but enough for this post…stay tuned for part 2.