Good morning to our Motherland of Valleys and Volcanoes and all of the great people who call it home. I do not wish to enter public life because I enjoy attention, power, or confrontation. I stepped forward because I love Dominica and our people, and because watching our country slowly unravel, while good people stay silent, is its own kind of suffering.
Yet I find myself hesitant to show my face as a leader of the Dominica Reform Party – not out of weakness, but out of realism. People have asked me in private why locals don’t publicly join the Dominica Reform Party campaign? The answer is simple and deeply troubling – fear.
- Fear of repercussions.
- Fear of being watched.
- Fear of being marked.
In Dominica, politics is not a neutral space. It is no longer a contest of great ideas on equal ground. It is a domain now long dominated by men, powerful elite networks, loyalty tests, and consequences – spoken and unspoken.
As a woman stepping into a leadership space that has long been historically dominated by men – an “all-boys’ club” – I feel that imbalance every day. In this climate, assertiveness is punished, and hesitation invites doubt. Speak boldly, and you are attacked. In a landscape like this, survival is measured by careful steps, not bold leaps.
Meanwhile, Roosevelt Skerrit projects an aura of absolute confidence – almost as if he believes himself untouchable. He has reinforced that image with statements claiming he will not leave office until Jesus returns, or until his son, Demetre, has children of his own.
This kind of language is not casual; it cultivates something many describe as god-like. But that confidence does not come from popularity alone. It comes from knowing the system bends around you. From knowing that institutions meant to protect citizens instead protect power. From knowing that silence is enforced not by law, but by fear.
And it raises an unavoidable question: are there forces here that are supporting and assisting Roosevelt Skerrit beyond our island – forces long associated with transnational crime and illicit money that play a role in sustaining his arrogance and confidence?
When a country becomes so afraid to speak, when accountability disappears, and when criminal activity finds fertile ground, people are left to connect dots not because they want to, but because the system refuses to provide answers.
Our country’s continued decline, intentional or not, has created the perfect conditions for crime to thrive. Where drugs, violence, and murder have become disturbingly normalized. This is not because our youth or our culture is inherently violent. It is because hopelessness is all we have left. When opportunity disappears, crime moves in. When accountability vanishes, impunity grows.
This isolation weighs heavily. My leadership becomes lonely when support exists only in private. It forces a painful question: how much should I risk when my country, which I want to help, will not stand publicly beside me? I have watched our people avoid engaging with my work – not because they disagree, but because they are afraid to be seen agreeing. I have received an endless amount of quiet messages of support paired with unlimited public silence. I have received offers of real help for my party, but they do not come from within Dominica, but from neighbouring countries – places where Roosevelt Skerrit’s reach does not extend.
Serious allegations are circulating, Roosevelt Skerrit – serious ones – about corruption, criminal networks, and political protection. Whether every claim is true or not is not for me to decide. But I was raised to understand something simple: where there is smoke, there is fire. And when a country is afraid to speak, afraid to share, afraid to stand publicly for reform, that smoke becomes impossible to ignore.
I take any potential threats seriously. I take history seriously. I take the lived reality of Dominicans seriously. That is why I hesitate – not because I lack courage, but because courage without support can become martyrdom, and Dominica does not need another name whispered after the fact. It needs collective action, shared responsibility, and the courage of many, not just me.
I still believe in reform. I still believe Dominica deserves better. But belief alone cannot protect me in a system where power goes unchecked. Until fear loosens its grip, Roosevelt Skerrit’s leadership will continue to come at a personal cost few are willing – or able – to pay. And that, more than anything, explains my hesitation.
So before you judge my hesitation, put yourself where I stand. Imagine living in a country where people privately agree with you – but publicly pretend you don’t exist. Where your posts are read, screenshotted, discussed in whispers, but never shared. Where support comes quietly, followed by the same sentence every time: “I can’t be seen.” Now imagine being asked to lead change that will turn things upside down in that environment. Would you come forward?
Imagine knowing that people want reform, but they are more afraid of repercussions than they are hopeful about the future. Afraid for their jobs. Afraid for their families. Afraid of being labelled, targeted, or cut off. Afraid because they’ve seen what happens to those who speak too loudly. This is not paranoia. This is our lived reality here in Dominica.
People ask why I hesitate to show my face fully as a leader of the Dominica Reform Party. Here is the truth: I hesitate because I am paying attention.
- I am paying attention to the way fear governs our entire country’s behaviour more effectively than law.
- I am paying attention to how crime thrives here because accountability has collapsed.
- I am paying attention to how our entire country’s decline has created the perfect environment for drugs, violence, and murder, which has become normal background noise.
Our youth are not murdering each other because they are evil or worthless. They are not killing over five-dollar debts. They are murdering each other because opportunity has been stripped away, dignity has been eroded, and the system has failed them so completely. That survival replaces any hope for a better future. And in that environment, Roosevelt Skerrit’s power becomes very confident. Too confident.
When people feel like they need to quietly talk about corruption, criminal protection, and dangerous associations. When people in an entire country are afraid to speak, afraid to share, afraid to stand beside you publicly, something is deeply wrong.
Whether every allegation regarding Roosevelt Skerrit is true or not is almost beside the point. The fear is real. The silence is real. The consequences people expect are real.
I know this because the only people who seriously offer help to our campaign are outside Dominica, where political reach ends, and fear loosens its grip. Inside the country I want to help, support arrives in private messages and hushed encouragement, never in daylight.
So ask yourself – honestly:
- Would you put your face forward if you had no public backing?
- Would you take personal risks when the country you are trying to save will not stand beside you?
- Would you lead loudly when you know that standing alone makes you and your family vulnerable?
Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is deciding what risks are worth taking. And recklessness is not leadership. Dominica does not need another individual sacrificed to the system. It needs people to stop outsourcing bravery onto one person and start sharing it themselves.
Until then, my hesitation is not a failure of will. It is a reflection of the country we have become and the one we still have a chance to change, if enough people are willing to be seen.
There is an alternative: if you do not wish to wait until the party is officially registered to learn my identity. You can complete the application to be part of our team. Once accepted, you will be asked to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement and to do a little research. After the application process, a meeting with me will be scheduled.
