Reflections

Queenie: Respect isn’t unreasonable

I hadn’t read a book properly for ages, so quarantine is a perfect reason to cram a lot of imagination into my day. Like a novice I had only just finished Malorie Blackman’s ‘Noughts & Crosses’, so reading a book from an author amongst the new wave of female Black British author’s ( who is also from Jamaican descent wood woop!) was a logical step. Thank you Candice Carty-Williams! I’m very glad I took a chance on the rave reviews, Queenie is a great story and one that needed to be told.

On my first introduction to the title character I found her quite agitating, her neediness and limp rationality of life made me want to shake her. However, like everyone else in the world Queenie is a multi-faceted human. Even though we try to portray ourselves as unproblematic beings with only two sides, strong & strong in vulnerability. But what about those awkward edges and our personal ‘-isims?’ Queenie laid hers shockingly bare and although she didn’t want to it does require more strength and gives power to her name. I suppose that’s why she was easy to pick on- guilty. I also grew annoyed when she insisted on being desperate for her ex-boyfriend Tom. Rejection is a painful lesson and its good that she saw her faults however, he could have done more to stand up for her. Not all of her desires were UNREASONABLE.

One of my preferred elements of the book was how the black female characters were recognisable in my own life. My favourite was Kyazike as she is an amalgamation of myself and other friends. I commended her fierceness, authenticity and loyalty. I was ready to back her beef when she wanted to duppy certain man! To the untrained eye (and in my opinion) she is a caricature of a young black female Londoner, but I saw as a woman who was simply herself and we should not be apprehensive of this quality.

Furthermore I appreciated the growth of Queenie’s grandma. Many old Caribbean’s diminish the woes of our generation as they don’t feel it compares to their own traumas. Therefore I was glad she made the step to even believe in mental illness and that our version of suffering is valid.

Simply put, we as readers are put in the mind of a young woman as she combats and embraces her life. I’d need a podcast to scratch the surface of the book but hopefully you understand the reason this story normalises Black women’s lives and the different shades it comes in.

Poetry

Pride keeps me in shatters

Pride keeps me in shatters though I’m begging to be healed Screaming for relief but my clutch will not yield

I say I’m doing fine and I promise I’m okay. But my heart is gently peeling pumping blood of disarray

Ruins

In spiritual ruins

That’s how I entered your throne room

Bright with promises you know I didn’t keep
Brokenness mixed with shouts of bravado.

I turned my back to rebuke myself, ashamed you should see me this way

Desperately trying to piece myself together

Forcing parts to fit but always losing my grip. Crying ‘cos it only hurt more.

Yet you waited

For me to forgive myself and allow your healing

But I’m too ashamed so I’ll continue hurting, yearning, bleeding