Dear Editor,
There is a kind of cruelty developing in Guyana that should concern all of us, and perhaps what troubles me most is how normal it is becoming to mock hardship once the person speaking about it does not “look poor enough” to qualify for sympathy.
Recently, I watched a video of a young Afro-Guyanese man, clearly supportive of the current administration, responding to someone who said they could not survive on $20,000 because it could only stretch toward basic dry goods and not fruit, snacks, or anything extra. His response was, “How the f$&k you could poor and want eat snacks and fruits?”
That statement disturbed me deeply because it revealed something ugly beneath the surface of our national conversations. Since when did fruit become a luxury? Since when did wanting a snack become proof that someone is not struggling? Since when did poverty mean a human being must only exist on flour, rice, oil, and survival? We have somehow reached a point where people believe hardship is invalidated the moment someone fixes their hair, attends an event, buys a drink, or tries to experience joy for one evening.
That is not reasoning. That is contempt disguised as commentary.
The same mindset appears every time ordinary Guyanese speak about the cost of living. Someone mentions that people are buying loose tennis rolls and immediately others rush to deny it. Someone points out the rising prices of plantains and basic produce, and instead of discussing the issue honestly, people respond by saying Guyanese cannot be poor because they still find money for hair, nails, parties, and shows. But are poor people not allowed moments of relief? Must struggling citizens perform misery publicly before society accepts their suffering as legitimate?
Not every person attending a show is wealthy. Not every person with a hairstyle is financially secure. Sometimes people spend on small moments of escape because life itself has become emotionally exhausting. Sometimes joy is not evidence that someone is thriving. Sometimes joy is the only thing keeping people from breaking apart entirely.
This is also why the current Independence season has left me uneasy. We are seeing “street food” heavily marketed as culture, but increasingly it feels as though the very people who created that culture are being pushed to the margins of it. Street food belongs to the vendors, hustlers, roadside cooks, market women, and working-class communities who built those traditions long before they became polished attractions. Egg balls, channa, pholourie, pine tarts, black pudding, and plantain chips were never luxury experiences. They were community food. Survival food. Ordinary people’s food.
So how did something born from the street become an experience increasingly curated for hotels, influencers, elites, ministers, and those able to comfortably afford inflated prices? How are we branding poor people’s food as culture while pricing poor people out of fully enjoying it themselves?
That contradiction speaks to a larger issue developing in Guyana. Increasingly, the country is being marketed through carefully curated images of prosperity while many ordinary citizens are saying openly that they are struggling beneath rising costs and unequal access. And when those citizens speak, too often they are mocked, dismissed, or accused of negativity.
If influencers are constantly needed to convince people there is a “good life,” then perhaps the good life is not reaching enough ordinary people naturally.
A real good life should not require heavy promotion. It should be visible in communities, markets, schools, villages, homes, and the everyday lives of citizens. People should feel dignity, opportunity, relief, and stability without needing social media to convince them that prosperity exists.
As Guyana approaches sixty years of Independence, perhaps we need more honest conversations about what development truly means and who is genuinely benefiting from it. Because development cannot simply be measured by glossy imagery, expensive events, and curated lifestyles while ordinary citizens are made to feel ashamed for wanting fruit, enjoyment, or basic comfort.
Poor people are still human beings. They are allowed to laugh, celebrate, breathe, rest, and enjoy life too.
Yours truly,
Martian Nella
Writer & Cultural Commentator
