Between a Rock and a Hard Place: Being African Black in Anti-Blackness Racism via the Dominican Republic



At this very moment, my body is in Esperanza, Valverde, Dominican Republic. I work here and live here, temporarily. Every morning, as I walk to the foundation I teach at, I take a couple of moments to stare into the mountains of the Cibao. The view of these regional mountains seem pixilated, rich hues of green, brown, and blue are sharply cut by waves of what I believe is Crayola’s Purple Mountain Majesty, a purple that inhabited one’s childhood daydreams more than their physical reality.

Majestic. Majestic is a term I would also attribute to my skin color. I am painted with different shades of rich browns, all representing the different paths my ancestors took to ensure my visibility at this time and place. Just as I look at the mountains for its pixilated view, I spend some time every morning looking at my skin in its pixilated state.  Granted, to…

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