Ancestral Voices

Founder’s Reflection #1

Dedicated to all who have ever been silenced, yet still believe in truth, dignity, and renewal — may you find your voice, your peace, and let your light shine.

For many years, I carried a truth in my heart but was afraid to speak it. Not because I doubted it, but because I knew what happens to those who speak too openly about slavery, race, and identity in Barbados.

When I was younger, people who wanted to discuss the legacies of slavery or the inequalities that still shaped our lives were often told to be quiet. You were warned not to stir up trouble, not to make people uncomfortable. You were accused of being divisive — even called a racist yourself — simply for talking about Black history or justice.

To raise those subjects was to risk being branded a troublemaker, or worse, being quietly sidelined. The ruling class — the old plantocracy and their descendants — preferred silence. And many within the political class followed that lead. The message was clear: “That was a long time ago. Let it rest. Move on.”

But silence is not peace. It is paralysis.

Many of us in the arts — in dance, drama, or folk performance — kept the culture alive through song and storytelling. But there was no organized movement to address the psychological wounds of plantation slavery or to challenge the systems that kept those wounds festering. There were calls to teach African history in our schools, but those calls were brushed aside. The subject was treated as optional, as though the story of our ancestors was a luxury and not the foundation of our identity.

That silence shaped me. It taught me to doubt the worth of my own voice — especially because I wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or academic. In our society, those with titles are granted respect and authority. But artists, especially struggling ones, are often treated as dreamers without substance, unless they achieve international fame.

Rihanna’s success is often held up as the example — and while she has made Barbados proud, not everyone’s path is paved with global opportunity. For many of us, the struggle has been not for fame, but for the right to speak — to be heard in our own country.

That’s why Ancestral Voices exists. It is my declaration that art, conscience, and cultural memory belong to the people — not to the privileged few. It’s my stand against the fear that kept me silent for so long.

When I say “We must let go,” I am not saying forget. I am saying free yourself. Letting go is not dismissal; it is liberation. It means facing our past honestly, grieving what was lost, and then choosing not to let the pain define our future.

I may not have a title, but I have a voice — one shaped by history, silence, and resilience. And that voice now says to my people, and to the world:

We must come together. We must let go. We must heal. We must rebuild.

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Douglas Newton
Founder & Author, Ancestral Voices