Jamaica Kincaid’s descriptions and narrative around the British’s occupation of Antigua was frightening and must’ve been incredibly agonizing for her to discuss. It is clear to me that the British have forever distorted the nature of Antigua and have branded their mark across all the citizens, permanently altering their perceptions on themselves and Antigua itself. When discussing the nature of Antiguans being separate and hesitant about supporting capitalism, Kincaid states, “Well, it’s because we, for as long as we have known you, were capital, like bales of cotton and sacks of sugar, and you were the commanding, cruel capitalists, and the memory of this is so strong, the experience so recent, that we can’t quite bring ourselves to embrace this idea that you think so much of” (37). The British intruded upon their way of life, installed their own regulations, and permanently rooted their own philosophies upon Antiguans. When they suddenly leave, how are Antiguans expected to grow, expected to govern themselves when all they are aware of is being conquered and subjugated. Kincaid, as a writer, is excellent in placing the reader in her shoes and visualizing Antigua through her lens, a lens wrought with British control and an innate superiority complex. Her personal anecdotes about school and certain establishments reeled me in, not solely because of the circumstances, but primarily due to the perceptions held by native Antiguans. How native Antiguans can easily remember the name and the exact date when a black male was allowed to play golf or eat a sandwich at the Mill Reef Club, an ordinary establishment for “ordinary” people. These moments were historic to them. All under the guise that British occupation would’ve modernized them, would’ve made them more “civil.” Kincaid didn’t convey the message within A Small Place through shock factor, it was as  simple as taking us on a journey throughout her childhood.