Outsided-ness: co-opting the extraction and exploitation of multiple oppressive systems as a position of power

Katie Numi Usher
5 min readMay 23, 2024

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(This text was read at the Perdu on May 4th, 2024 at Crisis and Representation, a event opened to the public as part of the Moving Narratives Mentorship 2024 by the Prince Claus Fund and the British Council)

selfie taken outside the Perdu after the event

4th May, 2024

Amsterdam, Kingdom of Netherlands

Belize is 8,710 km away from the Kingdom of Netherlands, according to google, or 8,775 km or 8,771 km, it might as well be the same distance between the earth and the sun. Belize is currently embroiled in a centuries-long territorial differendum with Guatemala. Spain versus the United Kingdom, United Kingdom versus Guatemala, Belize versus Guatemala. It is a huge part of our colonial histories and our identities. A quaint way in which conflict has intertwined our narratives. “The referendum passed in both countries in 2019. As of June 2022, both countries are now settling the dispute at the International Court of Justice, with both countries confirmed to have submitted their initial briefs to the organisation. The court is not expected to rule until 2025 at the earliest.” says google, says wikipedia. On April 1st, 2019, I did, had filmed and uploaded to youtube, a ramble of thoughts, facts and language at the Imagination Factri in Belize City, Belize, Central America. It was called Borderlxne. “(borderlxne)Was weaving my silenced-ness into a collective narrative. It was quotes and provocations. It was a 40ft braid bursting out a canvas on a wall. It was a braid made of extensions I had in April, July, August, November, December 2018. It was about personal borders bridging political ones. Hair, Black hair, is such a sense and sign of identity. On the continent it was how we identified, when our ancestors were taken away, they braided seeds in cornrows. African rice is in Maroon villages of Suriname. When we were taken away, our hair was shorn, and we were scattered by language. We were told and shown and done a great deal.” (2 April, 2019 @katienumi instagram post) Black hair is a marker of identity. I cut off my hair often. I don’t know what that could mean, in that context. But I will say that I prefer that my identity shifts, tectonic plates on those assigned to me by the white supremacist patriarchal framework of British colonialism in the settler-nation Belize, whose very existence hangs on the thread of an impending ICJ decision, OAS’ decisions for the adjacency zones, the Guatemala Armed Forces violent shouts to the Belize Territorial Volunteers, and even the Belize Defence Force, “¡Esto es Guatemala!” In Belizean Kriol, we say “When teef teef from teef, God laugh.” Where, how and when can a Black woman find a place or even space there? Here? Or anywhere? While you ponder a bit on those, or ignore those, I would like to talk about the layers of outsided-ness.

Some notes:

I come from a family of academics, on my mother’s side. I was not raised by him, so I am still meeting my father’s relatives almost daily. My mother’s family is Garifuna. A people who fought Spanish, French and British colonisers on their ancestral homeland Yurumei, which is now recognised as the settler-nation St.Vincent and the Grenadines. My father’s family are Kriol — a displaced people from the African continent, enslaved in the Americas forcibly mixed predominantly with white Scottish, Irish and Welsh settlers on the land which would become Belize — the Maya were displaced for the Settlement to happen. And Mestizos, a mixture of Spanish and Indigenous peoples of the Americas, in Belize, mostly Maya. East Indians — Enter the East Indian Regiment. The British falsely promised life-changing wages to Indians and Sri Lankans to come to the Caribbean as indentured servants. “Not available in your region.” is a prompt which appears for

Apple Pay

Google Pay

Wise

Cash App

Pay Pal

and monetization on instagram, tiktok, youtube, twitter or wherever else you get your social media apps. All debit cards say “Only valid in Belize.” Credit cards have small international limits, not too easy to get. There are three ways that money can enter the country: Western Union, Money Gram and wire transfers which takes long, and or often get bounced back to the originating bank. Belize for most people is a tourist destination or sugar cane producer for sugar refineries in the United Kingdom and the United States. We are currently experiencing a sugar shortage and are buying sugar from the refinery that bought our state-owned sugar mill in 2012. Sugar cane farmers’ associations complain that fair trade premiums are paid to farmers from associations who play ball. The government agreed to a Commission of Inquiry of the US-owned sugar mill American Sugar Refining Inc. which has threatened to reconsider doing business in Belize. It is easier for me, not emotionally, not logistically, not mentally, but practically for me to exhibit work, or do residencies anywhere else but at home. There are few places to show work, so I use social media apps as a platform. I have consistently done that since 2011. For all intents and purposes, if we do a qualitative analysis there is a 1 in a million chance of me being here. The way imposter syndrome and my positioning within a white supremacist patriarchal society is set up, it is a wonder, a miracle, a fever dream that I am here, right now, before you talking about my country, my self and my art practice. People like me are not the ones traditionally given the mic, given the seats at the table, given a pass. I don’t play nice and I’m not in the habit of meeting violence and harm with love and kindness. I am sorry but it is not my ministry. I am a firm believer in what Zora Neale Hurston said: “if you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” I am making art from the margins of the periphery of the art world. From here I disrupt, I critique, I make work which not only evidences how multitudinous oppressive systems fail us, I also shine light on the women who capital H history hides. I have every right to be a pessimist, if I so choose, but I have no time for that. I am busy trying to survive being extracted from, exploited from and excluded from basic human rights, care, love, joy, credibility, dignity and vulnerability.

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Katie Numi Usher

Black woman artist and writer trying not to be dissolved by (post)colonialism