What a pleasure it has been to review this beautifully written and meticulously researched account of the life of the first woman to be called to the bar in the Commonwealth Caribbean as well as being the first Caribbean woman to be called to the English Bar. It is an uplifting account of how a single woman overcame the contemporary and multiple obstacles of being illegitimate, female, mixed race and a colonial though sheer diligence and hard work.
Iris’s personal life makes for fascinating reading as delineated by the author; born in Barbados in 1896, with a Portuguese father and Barbadian mother, Iris’s parents never married but Iris and her family were supported by her father, who was also a firm believer in the education of girls and encouraged her to undertake higher education. This she did; between 1918 and 1929 she attended law schools in Canada, Wales and England, earning four degrees and culminating in being called to the Bar in 1929.
Iris was brought up in British Guiana; the author provides a useful analysis of the historical context behind Iris’s achievements, especially in relation to the legacy of slavery and colonialism in British Guiana and the extension of education, including legal studies, to the local population and the Caribbean in general. Following her call to the Bar in 1929 Iris returned to British Guiana to practise law, becoming the country’s first female prosecutor and the first woman to prosecute a murder trial. She also served on several public bodies. During this time she somehow found the time to marry and encountered yet another obstacle: the hostile attitude of so many institutions to married women working and – horror of horrors – retaining their maiden name professionally. The author provides some riveting contemporary material documenting this issue; it will not surprise the reader that Iris triumphantly overcame all opposition and continued to work, travel and undertake further public service. She died in 1989 at the age of ninety-two, much lauded by her peers.
As an archivist, I was fascinated to read the author’s account of how she discovered and delved into the scattered records providing evidence of both Iris’s private and professional life and the historical context to her achievements. As an Australian woman with convict ancestry, I was able to identify to some extent with the many details provided by the author of Iris’s struggles against institutionalised sexism and patronising attitudes to colonials in the twentieth century, though I was fortunate not to encounter the systemic racism with which Iris had to contend. This book provides several eye-opening accounts of how Iris had to fight sexual and racial discrimination, much of which was institutionally embedded.
This is a very timely book, given current discussions about decolonisation and the legacy of the British Commonwealth, plus of course the ever-present need for new material demonstrating how hard women – especially women of colour – have had, and must continue, to fight to shatter the twin glass ceilings of misogyny and racism. We must never forget that what can be achieved can also be taken away in the blink of a political/cultural eye. That is one reason why this book is important. The other (with my archivist hat on) is the understanding that unless accurate documentation of the past is preserved and published the present can never be fully understood.
Oh and by the way, it's a really good read!
