In the run-up to the No­vem­ber 5, 2007 Gen­er­al Elec­tion, Prime Min­is­ter Kam­la Per­sad-Bisses­sar, SC, was the UNC’s then Op­po­si­tion Leader. She was, how­ev­er, in­fa­mous­ly side­lined by the then lead­er­ship and faced a very dif­fi­cult choice—leave the UNC to save her rep­u­ta­tion or re­main and be con­signed to po­lit­i­cal ir­rel­e­vance.

In a move that stunned the coun­try and was wide­ly her­ald­ed as her most defin­ing po­lit­i­cal mo­ment at the time, she de­liv­ered the fiery, his­toric “No Woman No Cry” speech on Sun­day, Oc­to­ber 7, 2007, at the UNC’s Mid Cen­tre Mall Vic­to­ry Ral­ly. With the fa­mil­iar strains of Bob Mar­ley’s “No Woman No Cry” of­fer­ing the­mat­ic sup­port to her ora­tion.

Per­sad-Bisses­sar, de­fy­ing the odds, would go on to be­come T&T’s first fe­male Prime Min­is­ter in 2010.

On Fri­day, af­ter be­ing sworn in as T&T’s Prime Min­is­ter for yet an­oth­er time, the first and on­ly woman to be ap­point­ed to this post on two oc­ca­sions (2010 and 2025), Per­sad-Bisses­sar stood be­fore the na­tion again, fac­ing a dif­fer­ent set of chal­lenges but with the same un­shak­able re­solve.

This time, her speech echoed the sen­ti­ments of the 2007 ad­dress but with the wis­dom of years. She re­flect­ed on the strug­gles of the past, ac­knowl­edg­ing the set­backs but em­pha­sis­ing the im­por­tance of fight­ing for jus­tice, for the peo­ple, and for a fu­ture built on equal­i­ty and op­por­tu­ni­ty.

Her jour­ney from the 2007 speech to the 2025 vic­to­ry was not just a sto­ry of po­lit­i­cal suc­cess but of the pow­er of stand­ing firm in one’s con­vic­tions. The speech­es cap­tured the essence of who she was—and still is to­day: a moth­er, a leader, and a fight­er for the peo­ple.

The woman who had once stood on the precipice of po­lit­i­cal ob­scu­ri­ty had risen to the high­est of­fice in the land, not once but twice, reaf­firm­ing her place not on­ly in his­to­ry but in the hearts of the peo­ple.

Fol­low­ing her re­mark­able elec­toral vic­to­ry on April 28, 2025, we pub­lish a con­densed ver­sions of her “No Woman No Cry” speech and salu­ta­tions from Fri­day’s swear­ing-in cer­e­mo­ny.

'NO WOMAN NO CRY' SPEECH AT UNC’s

MID CEN­TRE MALL VIC­TO­RY RAL­LY IN 2007

The peo­ple of Trinidad and To­ba­go:

As I look up­on you in your thou­sands, the love and hope re­flect­ed in your faces, love and hope that over the past years, have trans­lat­ed in­to sup­port for me, I am moved to tears.

There are very few mo­ments in a politi­cian’s life, when he or she steps back and looks at peo­ple, at their good­ness, at their in­spi­ra­tion, and asks:

What have I done to de­serve this?

Why have you cho­sen me for the past years, giv­en me a man­date to be your rep­re­sen­ta­tive, your spokesper­son, the one you place your hopes, dreams in?

I am hum­bled by this tremen­dous show­ing of sup­port, hum­bled by the vote of love and con­fi­dence you have giv­en me not just for one year, or two, but for 21 years.

And I say thank you. It has not been easy.

I used to think, that, in the tra­di­tion of the pol­i­tics we have been ac­cus­tomed to, it was weak to show hurt, pain, anger or dis­ap­point­ment.

I used to think that when you come on a plat­form the on­ly thing you should re­veal to peo­ple was your brave face.

I no longer think that way.

It was the great free­dom fight­er Ma­hat­ma Gand­hi who once said:

“It is any day bet­ter to stand erect with a bro­ken and ban­daged head then to crawl on my bel­ly, in or­der to be able to save my head.”

I stand be­fore you to­day unashamed that I am ban­daged, but I want to tell you that from this mo­ment on, I will nev­er crawl on my bel­ly be­fore you or any­one else.

That is not what you de­serve.

Let me tell you where I come from.

You may have read sto­ries about me be­ing a teacher, study­ing law while very preg­nant, and then go­ing in­to pol­i­tics as an al­der­man in Siparia.

That is the clos­est you get to serv­ing your com­mu­ni­ty un­der our po­lit­i­cal sys­tem, and that is how I be­gan.

Be­cause it was the ex­pres­sion of every­thing that I was, a woman with a de­sire to serve her coun­try, and her peo­ple, be­cause I love you.

I climbed the ranks through sheer hard work and ded­i­ca­tion.

It was not easy.

There were days when, as a moth­er, I want­ed to stay home and tend to my fam­i­ly, in­stead of putting in the long, hard hours that rep­re­sent­ing the peo­ple re­quire.

The agony and some­times thank­less­ness that this path I have cho­sen bring—yes, I will ad­mit to you that there were times I want­ed to give it all up.

But those mo­ments were short and few in be­tween, be­cause in serv­ing the peo­ple, I re­alised that I was do­ing my true call­ing.

My hands were made strong by the hand of the Almighty.

I re­mem­bered his words:

Be still and know that I am God,

Fear not for I am al­ways with you.

And slow­ly, as I as­pired to be your rep­re­sen­ta­tive on the high­est lev­el, to do your bid­ding to the best of my abil­i­ty, I be­gan to climb the ranks.

I have been in Par­lia­ment since 1994 and I have of­ten been the lone woman’s voice in the sea of men.

That is what I have stood out for in my po­lit­i­cal ca­reer, be­ing the first woman to do sev­er­al things.

But cre­at­ing his­to­ry came with a per­son­al price.

I re­mem­ber clear­ly what drove my de­ci­sions in those days.

It was with the com­plete knowl­edge that, as one of the few fe­male rep­re­sen­ta­tives of this coun­try, it was my du­ty to as­sume the nat­ur­al role of moth­er when it came to na­tion­al is­sues.

IN A SEA OF MEN

In that sea of men who ar­gued and cussed each oth­er, I knew I had to be the rare voice of fair­ness, nur­tur­ing, car­ing, and love.

My ma­ter­nal in­stincts made me choose, some­times not by my head, but my heart.

But as any true moth­er, those in­stincts were nev­er wrong.

And so, I cared for the peo­ple of my con­stituen­cy, my par­ty and the na­tion, as a moth­er.

Like all moth­ers, I took a lot for the chil­dren of this na­tion, and for you the peo­ple.

In the back­ground, I bat­tled the whims, in­se­cu­ri­ties and yes, ma­cho at­ti­tudes of sev­er­al col­leagues, both on my side and the oth­er po­lit­i­cal di­vide.

I im­mersed my­self in­to the job, com­mit­ted to play­ing that cru­cial role of help­ing de­vel­op this coun­try and its peo­ple.

And my record speaks for it­self.

As the first fe­male AG and then Le­gal Af­fairs min­is­ter, I con­tributed to the le­gal frame­work of our na­tion.

I cre­at­ed his­to­ry in this coun­try as the woman who pro­pelled the UNC gov­ern­ment’s ground­break­ing uni­ver­sal sec­ondary ed­u­ca­tion for all pol­i­cy.

And when we lost gov­ern­ment in the un­con­sti­tu­tion­al method we did, I then re­alised in an era of the worst dis­crim­i­na­tion, po­lit­i­cal per­se­cu­tion, cor­rup­tion, waste, and mis­man­age­ment I have ever seen, I had an even more im­por­tant role to play.

I had to de­fend my coun­try’s democ­ra­cy and en­sure that our peo­ple were pro­tect­ed.

Again, my ma­ter­nal in­stincts kicked in.

They say no one is more dan­ger­ous than a moth­er who be­lieves her chil­dren are in dan­ger.

I have not been qui­et.

Every bat­tle that has been fought against the PNM, I have been there.

When I was called on to take the man­tle and heavy re­spon­si­bil­i­ty of Op­po­si­tion leader, I did so with ea­ger­ness, be­cause again, I will nev­er shun my du­ties to you the peo­ple.

WHEN DU­TY CALLS

When­ev­er du­ty called I was there to an­swer. It was not easy.

There were days I could bare­ly sleep, but I rel­ished those mo­ments be­cause that is what ser­vice to the peo­ple is.

There were days when I felt like the man de­scribed in the Bible in the Book of Isa­iah who was cho­sen to go for­ward to bat­tle evil.

The Bible says he said, “Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of un­clean lips, liv­ing among a peo­ple of un­clean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!”

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, hold­ing an em­ber which he had tak­en with tongs from the al­tar.

He touched my mouth with it. “See,” he said, “now that this has touched your lips, your wicked­ness is re­moved, your sin purged.”

Then I heard the voice of the Lord say­ing, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” “Here I am,” I said; “send me!”

So when to­day I stand on the thresh­old of my po­lit­i­cal fu­ture, and in­deed, the coun­try’s po­lit­i­cal fu­ture, these are the things that I take in­to con­sid­er­a­tion.

These are the mem­o­ries that dri­ve me ...

And I want to tell you here to­day that I did it be­cause of my great love for my coun­try and peo­ple.

Be­cause at every step of the way, all those years of bat­tles, my peo­ple, the peo­ple of Trinidad and To­ba­go, have been con­stant at my side.

My peo­ple, who nev­er bow down and obey even when the tyrants de­stroy every­thing they have. My peo­ple who rise up and join in protest to stand up for what is right, true and just. My peo­ple, who when they cry, they cry for free­dom and jus­tice.

I love my coun­try and that is the on­ly rea­son why I have kept go­ing with the en­er­gy I have for so long. I stood and toiled and fought.

To­day I want to stand here and tell you that the UNC is my par­ty, and Trinidad and To­ba­go is my coun­try, and I am here to stay.

I want to tell you here to­day that you are not deal­ing with a woman scorned, but a woman in love.

I love my par­ty and my coun­try with a great love, and I am here to stay.

I will not leave now in one of our dark­est pe­ri­ods in this coun­try’s his­to­ry, when my beloved coun­try is drown­ing in in­no­cent blood and los­ing all hopes of reach­ing a peace­ful shore.

The Prophet Mo­hammed (Up­on Whom Be Peace) once said:

“Al­lah will not be mer­ci­ful to those who are not mer­ci­ful to peo­ple.”

The Great Soul Ma­hat­ma Gand­hi once said:

“When I de­spair, I re­mem­ber that all through his­to­ry the way of truth and love have al­ways won. There have been tyrants and mur­der­ers and for a time they can seem in­vin­ci­ble, but in the end they al­ways fall.”

The Holy Ra­mayana tells that when God had enough of wicked ways, he came as a man in the form of Lord Ra­ma and brought an end to the reign of ter­ror.

NEV­ER GO­ING TO KEEP ME DOWN

As the great po­et said,

I am the woman who has awok­en.

I have arisen and be­come a tem­pest through the ash­es of my burnt peo­ple.

My na­tion’s wrath has em­pow­ered me.

I want every­one to know that I am the woman who has awok­en,

I’ve found my path and will nev­er turn back.

I want to tell all that Kam­la Per­sad-Bisses­sar is a woman who gets knocked down, but she gets up again, and they are NEV­ER go­ing to keep me down.

Be­cause from you the peo­ple I have re­ceived the great­est po­lit­i­cal gift any­one can get—the man­date to serve and to con­tin­ue serv­ing.

Your love, sup­port and loy­al­ty—that is the great­est gift from you the peo­ple and I say here to­day let not my will, but yours be done.

Kam­la is the ser­vant of the peo­ple. The peo­ple are her lead­ers. Their voice is the voice of God.

And we learn from our mis­takes.

You see I used to think that courage was a man who fought ag­gres­sive­ly and in con­trol. But you, the peo­ple, have made me re­alise that true courage is the per­son who stands up for what is right, even though you know you’re beat­en be­fore you be­gin, but you be­gin any­way, and you see it through no mat­ter what.

You rarely win, but some­times you do.

And that is why you fight.

That is why I am con­tin­u­ing this fight.

Through the rivers of be­tray­al and pain, I want you to know:

I’ve opened closed doors of ig­no­rance

I’m the woman who has awok­en

I’ve found my path and will nev­er turn back

I’ve seen bare­foot, wan­der­ing, and home­less chil­dren

I’ve been re­born amidst epics of re­sis­tance and courage

I’ve learned the song of free­dom

No longer re­gard me as weak and in­ca­pable

With all my strength I’m with you on the path of my coun­try’s lib­er­a­tion.

My voice has min­gled with thou­sands of arisen peo­ple

My fists are clenched with the fists of thou­sands com­pa­tri­ots

Along with you, I’ve stepped up to the path of my na­tion,

To break all these suf­fer­ings,

I’m the woman who has awok­en

I’ve found my path and will nev­er turn back

I stand here to­day ask­ing you to let me vote for you.

Let me vote for your hopes and dreams of a bet­ter coun­try, a unit­ed coun­try where hon­esty, jus­tice, and pros­per­i­ty pre­vails.

I promise that I will work fear­less­ly and self­less­ly.

I will re­main faith­ful and nev­er be­tray you.

And let me tell you, Trinidad and To­ba­go, when I vote for you: no woman no cry, no man no cry, no fa­ther, moth­er, sis­ter, broth­er, son, daugh­ter nor child will cry be­cause as Bob Mar­ley says:

Along the way.

In this great fu­ture, you can’t for­get your past;

So dry your tears, I say

Every­thing is gonna be all right!

I love you my coun­try and my peo­ple and I am here to stay.

SALU­TA­TIONS AT THE 2025 SWEAR­ING-IN

CER­E­MO­NY AT PRES­I­DENT’s HOUSE

Dis­tin­guished Ladies and Gen­tle­men,

This evening, we be­gin a new five-year jour­ney—one where the peo­ple of Trinidad and To­ba­go will be placed at the fore­front. I thank God and you, the cit­i­zens, for plac­ing your trust in me once more. The cam­paign is over. Now be­gins the work.

My role as Prime Min­is­ter is sim­ple: to love you and do every­thing pos­si­ble to make your lives bet­ter. For too long, gov­ern­ments have for­got­ten the peo­ple. That ends now.

We must stop gov­ern­ing to win elec­tions and start gov­ern­ing to build a na­tion for gen­er­a­tions. We will re­store the econ­o­my, se­cure our na­tion, ex­pand ac­cess to tech­nol­o­gy, and reignite hope across the land.

Some seeds we plant to­day may not bear fruit in our time, but they will nour­ish fu­ture gen­er­a­tions. Our high­est goal is not just to speak to you, but to con­nect with you—to un­der­stand, lis­ten, and re­spond with love and fair­ness.

I know what it is to be writ­ten off, hu­mil­i­at­ed, and for­got­ten. But it was the hum­ble, the loy­al, the poor who stood by me when oth­ers turned away. For them—for you—I re­turn to serve.

To our Gov­ern­ment rep­re­sen­ta­tives: if you lead with love and in­tegri­ty, you will have my full sup­port. If you abuse your of­fice, ret­ri­bu­tion will be swift. Let there be no mis­take—I may be kind, but I am not weak.

This term is ded­i­cat­ed to the for­got­ten peo­ple of this coun­try—from the fringes of the Gua­napo dump to Char­lot­teville, from Ker­na­han to Ica­cos, from every par­ty and back­ground—you all mat­ter. You all be­long.

On Sat­ur­day, we swear in our Cab­i­net. Six months from now, you will be­gin to feel the dif­fer­ence. This Gov­ern­ment cares. We will treat cit­i­zens like the so­lu­tion, not the prob­lem.

We are ready to de­liv­er. And to­geth­er, we will re­build hope, dig­ni­ty, and our na­tion—com­mu­ni­ty by com­mu­ni­ty, heart by heart. Trinidad and To­ba­go is too blessed to be bro­ken.

I close with these words from the the Holy Bible: First Pe­ter, Chap­ter Three, Vers­es 8 to 12: : “Re­pay evil with bless­ing … seek peace and pur­sue it … for the eyes of the Lord are on the right­eous.”

It’s time to turn pain in­to pow­er, and frus­tra­tion in­to ac­tion. Choose hope. Choose courage. And let’s Win To­geth­er.

You’ve had Prime Min­is­ters be­fore and you will have them af­ter—but nev­er one who loves you as much as I do.

God bless you all. (Go to www.guardian.co.tt for the full speech.)