Antigua is a small place, just nine miles wide by twelve miles long. Christopher Columbus stumbled on it in 1493; soon after, “human rubbish from Europe” occupied it, using “enslaved but noble and exalted human beings” to enrich themselves. Eventually, the masters left (in a way) and freed the enslaved people (in a way). Modern Antiguans descend from those noble and exalted human beings. But once the masters cease being masters, they cease being human rubbish. And once the enslaved become free, they cease being noble and exalted; former masters and former enslaved people all become just human beings once again.
Lest Antiguans take Kincaid’s denunciation of colonialism, slavery, racism, white supremacy, and tourism as providing absolution for their role in their own current subjugation to a corrupt government and the control of outsiders, Kincaid reminds them—and her readers—that everyone, from the most inhumane slaveowner to the most noble enslaved person, is ultimately human. And human beings are all responsible for their actions. For the descendants of colonialists and slaveholders, this means understanding the privilege that their race has conferred on them. It also means recognizing that their wealthy societies were built on stolen labor. For the descendants of enslaved people, this means taking ownership for their lives and societies now, unlearning the passivity and subjugation that slavery taught them, and forging a path in the world on their own terms.