SL: We have a good friend that we met traveling and working around the Amazon in Brazil, and he claims black and indigenous ancestry. He explained how his mother is indigenous and comes from Guyana. It was the first time I met someone with ties to Guyana. And when he said Guyana, it just felt like a mystery. That part of the world was hardly discussed in my education. Whether that’s Afro-Ecuadorian communities or places like Guyana and Suriname— no one talks about them. 

DP: There’s a joke I have with my best friend. It’s an inside joke about when someone doesn’t know where a place is. So we’ll say, “Where’s Suriname?” And that’s because I mentioned Suriname to this friend, and he had no idea where it was. And so then I asked, “Where is Suriname?” And he was just like, “Mmm…”

And everybody says it’s in Asia. I’ve never met someone who knew where Suriname actually was. Unless, of course, when I have been in the Netherlands because Suriname was a Dutch colony. If you are in Amsterdam and people are talking about Caribbean culture, people refer to Suriname. So when you go look for Caribbean food in the Netherlands, a lot of it is from there. It’s from Suriname. 

SL: As you mentioned earlier, you live quite a nomadic life and travel often. How has being mixed shaped your experiences traveling?

DP: Being a mixed person allows you to experience the world in a very unique way. It allows you to be able to dip your toes in very different spaces. You never fully belong, but you are allowed in. I think people feel curious and drawn to you because you’re not the extreme, so there’s a familiarity in it. Sometimes it allows a curiosity or confusion. There have been places in my travels where people act very confused because they’ve never seen a mixed person before.

People just assume like “Oh my God, you have an advantage traveling in Africa,” also because before I was wearing an Afro. And I’m like—no. I’ve made children cry before because they were confused by my skin color, so people are looking at me like, “what happened to you?”

Another example is that I’ve never been so reminded of how I looked like I was in South Africa. Everything is categorized by the way you look. I’ve never had to wake up every day and have to be reminded of the fact that I’m another color.

SL: I feel like it’s still very much like that in America.

DP: For me, I’m very thankful I didn’t grow up in the States or South Africa, where race dominates. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up in a very racist country; however, class came before race. This is also the case in the UK or Latin America. Yes, you are constantly reminded of your identity, but you are allowed in a space depending on how much money you have more than anything else. I think in the States, race dominates. And that’s a big difference I noticed when I compared the US and the UK. In the UK, class dominates.

SL: I’ve theorized that the States will transform into a class-dominated society. Is this something you can see happening as well?

DP: I would hope, but I mean, I lived my adult life very aware of the body I embody and the gender I represent; however, it does not dictate my life. In an American context, it is so fixated on identity that it feels claustrophobic for me. That’s where I feel the biggest cultural differences. Even when I go back to New York, it is very intrinsically American to be very much fixated on the concept of individual identity. To me, this might sound more spiritual, but I don’t live my life dictated by the limits of my body. So I don’t think every day of my gender, I don’t think every day of my skin, I just live my life. There are moments, of course, where I understand what I mean in a space when I feel… something that can only be felt if you have black blood in you, but it is not the main symphony in my life. 

Culturally, I can see distances in terms of values within me, and when I come back to the States, I feel that chasm. As a mixed person, you don’t connect with the concept of boxes. 

SL: How was it growing up in the Dominican Republic? (in terms of identity and race?)

DP: Basically, I didn’t understand that my father was an Afro-Caribbean man until I was like 17 years old. I think my aunt was a big influence on that. She was the first person to introduce the term “Afro-Caribbean” to me. She also left the island very young like me. I immigrated alone, my family is still there…

I felt clearly a lack of belonging, and I knew I had to leave. I came back to visit, but I haven’t lived there since I was 17. I felt very out of place. 

In school, there is a pride of “multi-combinations” of things, but there is no pride in the African part of the heritage. They are proud of being mixed people and indigenous and, even though the indigenous culture did not survive in the Caribbean, there is that pride… of course, the Spanish blood as well. The African side has never been embraced. It was usually reserved for Haitian people. We were sort of taught they are “real.” They are “black.” 

SL: Did you ever think about your ancestral roots growing up?

DP: I come from an island, and islands are very insular and narrow-minded, so I think I started to question more when visiting my aunt. I was not really raised with my dad’s (Afro-Caribbean) side of the family either. I was raised more with my mother’s side of the family. I think it was an organic process. I feel like when I was mature enough, I started to question more my roots, and I started to travel more to Africa. My first trip was actually to Ethiopia. But Africa is also vast, and I did not have this romanticized perception of it. I didn’t go trying or expecting to feel like “suddenly I belong somewhere”. For me, I like to look at every place with respect and distance until I’m allowed in. I don’t see it as “this is mine!” you know. I never went expecting to be just welcomed because I have melanin in my body. 

I think going to the west (Africa), I could trace back some messages of Caribbean culture. I could see it in the music and the food. There were some things energetically, but not everywhere. Some places surprised me. If there was no clear root or connection in a place, energetically, I still felt connected. And I’ve felt connected to places I didn’t expect to feel connected to, in the world. I don’t think we are limited to the genetic lineage, you know. I have felt different connections in different places…

(on Africa) I just knew I wanted to see it and feel it, and afterward, it was clear that I didn’t want to keep on telling negative stories about it. I wanted to highlight beauty. I made a very conscious decision. When I was first traveling, I did take pictures of many things there. But there was a moment a couple of years ago where I stopped and realized I just wanted to highlight beauty. I’m not going to take pictures of anything that resembled scarcity, I would avoid it. I had this thought “Look for beauty all the time.” Just thinking, “How can I portray this person in the most dignified way possible?”

When people talk about documentary photography, I don’t do that— not traditionally. I’m not capturing reality. I’m adding fantasy to reality. It’s like a mental exercise to imagine what is in front of you. I wanted to add a little bit of elevation. It came very intuitively for me.