This year I took some leaps in a new direction that I’ve been working towards for my entire life. Im writing my first feature film. I had convinced myself I wouldn’t qualify, my idea wasn’t good enough, and that the system wasn’t for me because of my learning difficulties. But with several reminders from @hometeamnatty and @_9knee I finally started applying for grants. @indigenousscreen offered a solidarity grant which I received earlier this year and frankly it changed my life. The validation that my story is worth telling shifted my point of view and self confidence. So much, that I was able to get enough of that story onto paper to apply and later in the year @canada.council also supported me. I am writing an allegory of indentureship, a story about drug dealing and domestic abuse. The shame associated with that has stopped me from putting pen to paper many days. But with both the grant’s support and my partner’s I went to London. Where my Father’s side of the family has over 400 years of well documented history. Ironically that isn’t what brought me there, I was there to research at the UK National Archive and touch the few existing photographs of my South Asian ancestors who were brought to the Caribbean as labourers. At one point I sat at the Thames on the phone with my therapist staring at a place that I carry a burning in my chest because of. The burn of estrangement from a parent is not an easy one to carry. Sometimes it eats me up and I’m distracted by the rumination of that rejection, from people who are supposed to love and protect you. I sat there though long enough to wrap my arms around little Stephanie and protect her myself. I made it to the archive despite the learning difficulties and in spite of the dejection. I found smiles in the archive that reminded me of the people who embrace me and to tell their stories.