Confronting My Family’s Colonial Past. A Personal Journey
By Martha Knight, Open University, Milton Keynes, UK

This story has also been published on the EADI Blog
Unravelling the threads that shape our understanding of the impacts of colonialism is a multifaceted and highly complex task. I know this because I teach Global Development for the Open University (OU) and grapple with decolonising dominant discourses around development and change. However, this is a personal story. This is a story which goes beyond the intellectual challenge of decolonising knowledge and sits squarely with my family’s role in colonialism. Something I only discovered recently.
It starts in the most cliched way imaginable. I inherited a shoebox full of dusty black and white photographs with curled up edges and the odd ineligible note written on the back of them. I pushed the box under my desk to gather more dust and forgot about them. Alongside the photos, I also inherited an ornate sword which I hid in a cupboard not liking weaponry in my home. To get rid of the sword I consulted an expert on weaponry - and the link between the owner of the sword and the photos was made. It transpired that my great grandfather was Colonial Governor General Sir Charles O’Brien Knight, Commander of the Most Distinguished Order of St Michael and St George, (KCMG) of Seychelles in 1912 and Barbados between 1918 – 1924. The family photos were of, among other people, my grandmother and her sister as children growing up in Government House, Barbados.



This revelation on its own would have been of note but in my working life, I write teaching and learning materials relating to Global Development. It is one thing to write and teach about the structural inequalities caused by colonialism and to believe passionately about the injustice this caused and then to realise that your family were at the centre of this state sanctioned action. The realisation and the feelings this engendered can best be described as a mixture of deeply felt shame and embarrassment. Also, of hypocrisy.
Realising the historical importance of these photos, I took the decision to contact the Barbados Museum and Historical Society to see if they would like to archive the photographs. The photos featured Government House, Barbados and visiting colonial dignitaries and royalty alongside family pictures. In my letter to the museum, I acknowledged that they may not wish to have these photos and that I would understand if they rejected the offer. They replied affirmatively and we agreed to meet.
The timing of my approach was fortuitous as the museum had started a major project to ‘dismantle the colonial gaze’ of historical photographs and postcards featured in their displays. They were striving to reclaim their history, which had previously been narrated by white colonisers, and to reimagine it free from the lens of colonialism. The exhibition ‘LOOKA. Dismantling the Colonial Gaze’(2023), had been very successful in attracting visitors and starting this conversation. Natalie McGuire, Curator - Social History and community engagement, warmly agreed to consign the photographs which were handled with respect and care and were going to be kept for researchers.
Facing the past with an open heart
Meeting with key people from the museum was a humbling experience. Despite having the intellectual language to talk about the political, economic and social impacts of colonialism, to hand over personal photos of family members, who were at the forefront of imposing colonial rule of Barbados, was much harder than I had imagined. To look people in the eye and say you’re sorry for the role your family played in the colonising project was a seismic moment for me. Natalie and her colleague listened carefully and asked questions but at no point made me feel more uncomfortable than I already did. After the meeting, I sat in my car for an hour, reflecting on what it meant to me, to Barbados, and to my family before driving away.
Talking about the impacts of colonialism to students who both live in colonised countries and countries that were colonisers, has always been highly informative and prompts much debate about the impacts and structural inequalities. Indeed, we recently ran a session which tackled this head on, and the variety of responses was indicative of the complexity of decolonising knowledge and understanding. Some students can’t make the links between the past and the current situation and question why we focus on the impacts of colonialism and not the future. With that in mind, it could be said that I should have thrown the photos away and forgotten about them. Consign them to the past. However, despite discomfort around my family’s role, I felt facing the past with an open heart was more important than burying the history.
Family members responded to my project to repatriate the photos in several ways. My aunt, whose grandparents were Sir Charles KMCG and Lady O’Brien, remembered them and were protective of their reputation. There was unease about any future discussion of reparations. The subject of reparations is important in Barbados but not the sole point of the decolonising conversation. It goes deeper than monetary recourse.
My sisters and I were reflective of some of the stories our grandmother had recounted to us as children. We realised that our grandmother, who was a highly inventive storyteller, was potentially recounting stories about her childhood in Barbados. One of our favourites was the story about two little girls who rode on the backs of turtles. Barbados is known for its turtle population. We felt that facing up to our colonial past was the responsible thing to do and that we needed to start changing the dialogue around the role our family had played in Barbados.
Apologising isn’t enough
Clearly apologising for my family’s role in upholding colonial rule in Barbados isn’t enough. There is a bigger part of this story which involves looking at how our white privilege has impacted on how we live now, where we lived growing up and the benefits we enjoyed. I discussed this at my meeting with the museum as it is hard to imagine what benefits my immediate family enjoyed as we have all worked full time for most of our lives. The grandeur portrayed in the photos is as far away from my lived experience as going to the moon. However, it will be there, and my role is now to understand that better: I need to speak truth to power.
As my mother is now deceased it isn’t possible to talk to her about this, but the fact she never displayed the photos and kept them in the battered shoe box probably says more than any words. The sword remains in a cupboard until I can assign it to a military museum. This personal project to decolonise our family history remains ongoing.
Martha Knight is Staff Tutor and Senior Lecturer in the Development Policy and Practice Department at the Open University, Milton Keynes, UK.