Jamaica Kincaid wrote a book in the 80's called A Small Place. The small place she speaks of is Antigua, former colony in the Caribbean. I know - you thought the most poetic thing from the Caribbean was Sean Paul, maybe Rihanna (it's actually Vybz Kartel, but never mind about that now). Look - it's a short book, and you should read it.

The hell you can read, and the hell you will!

Ok, well, why would you want to read something from so long ago? You might not - and just because a book was written and awarded doesn't mean it's actually any good. But. If you're from the Caribbean, you want to read it. If you have been a tourist in the Caribbean, you should read it. If you have the famed millennial affliction titled "wanderlust" (the need to travel and post all about it, the adventuring spirit, the exploring nature that consumes you) - you must read it.

When you show everyone your post colonial problems with your Viewfinder.

This excerpt helps explain why:

“That the native does not like the tourist is not hard to explain. For every native of every place is a potential tourist, and every tourist is a native of somewhere. Every native everywhere lives a life of overwhelming and crushing banality and boredom and desperation and depression, and every deed, good and bad, is an attempt to forget this. Every native would like to find a way out, every native would like a rest, every native would like a tour. But some natives—most natives in the world—cannot go anywhere. They are too poor. They are too poor to go anywhere. They are too poor to escape the reality of their lives; and they are too poor to live properly in the place they live, which is the very place you, the tourist, want to go"

Alright, so she's going to make you feel bad about being a tourist? No, sensitive snowflake! It's about understanding why sometimes the slight side-eye you will get in the Caribbean is not against you personally as a person, but from a complex place that often not even the person who feels it understands fully. The feeling can be applied to almost any neighborhood in America where gentrification is happening.

This book, in brave (almost uncomfortable at times) prose explains that feeling, that history, that we often try to look away from. Also, come on, man, the 80's! A woman writer! Saying this! Do you realize how brave she is? Do you feel like a p*ssy yet for every time you were afraid to say what was on your mind? You might. I did.

Kincaid covers capitalism briefly and ruthlessly in the below quote. Some say the book is angry. I think anger and honesty are often confused for one another. We'd like to sing along to Buffalo Soldier, but look away from the starch, cold words that convey the same meaning. It's ok to feel uncomfortable when someone is telling you a story of their discomfort. It might be odd to feel anything else.