Invisible Ink 

Abigail Ralph
University of Toronto Scarborough
Faculty of Biological Sciences; Neuroscience, Health Policy and Psychology

There is a gap in academic literature that highlights 
the perspectives of Canadian-Caribbean individuals 
that navigate both poverty and the stigma of limited 
access to resources necessary for livelihood in 
Canada. By employing the intersecting identities of 
Low-Income and (un)documentation, this poem 
aims to deconstruct the stereotypical expectations of 
Canadian-Caribbean immigrants. What does an 
impoverished Canadian-Caribbean immigrant look 
like once we’ve disregarded our representativeness 
heuristic? They now may be the straight-A student 
in your class or that lady that never seems to wear 
an uncoordinated outfit – or perhaps your lecturer or 
community organizer who has an undying passion 
for 19th-century opera. By mobilizing this idea, this 
poem seeks to encourage the reader to reconsider 
our pre-conceived notions of an (un)documented, 
impoverished Canadian-Caribbean individual. 
Similarly, this poem challenges the notion that to 
exist, is contingent on external perceptions. A tree in 
the Northwest Territories may exist unknowingly to 
us and still be able to blow gracefully in the wind. 

A B S T R A C T

Keywords: Poverty, 
Immigration

B I O

Abigail is a hardworking and compassionate student that aims to bring awareness of 
health inequities in marginalized populations through advocacy. She is currently an 
undergraduate student at the University of Toronto studying both Neuroscience and 
Health Policy. 

© 2021 Abigail Ralph
Caribbean Studies Students’ Union, Canada - https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/cquilt/

                       This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution- ShareAlike 4.0 International License. 
                       To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

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(January 20, 2022 / 09:38:52)

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 I don’t exist on paper 
I’m telling you, it’s true 
If you look up my records
you’ll find another you 

I don’t have the ability to grow 
To compound like wealth
But instead, I slither 
between fear and no health

 I don’t exist on paper
What don’t you understand? 
It sounds a bit odd
but it’s all a part of the plan.

The numbers don’t make sense 
or simply add up
 But when you see me in person
You would never guess. 

You’d say my smile is contagious 
You’d say my skin is bliss
You’d say my ambition is inspiring 
You’d say, I was born to be rich 

I don’t exist on paper 
So how can I be free? 
If you didn’t get it by now, 
This is my story of living in poverty

(January 20, 2022 / 09:38:52)

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