Our Story

FROM THE CARENAGE
TO Canada.

A love letter to the island in my blood, and the women who carry it forward.

My father is Grenadian.

He is one of eight children raised by my grandmother Pearline (“Granny”). The kind of matriarch the Caribbean produces and the world rarely deserves. Like so many of his generation, he left the island as a young adult and came to Canada to build something for the children who hadn't yet been born. I am one of those children.

I grew up with both worlds woven into me.

My childhood was a passport stamped by water. I learned to swim in a pool in Jamaica when I was four. I watched the busy city streets of Trinidad. I felt the rough seas of Barbados. And every visit to Grenada wove me a little more tightly into a story I have spent my adult life trying to honour.

Again and again, I came back to Grenada — to my grandmother's house, to my aunties, uncles, and cousins, to the hot hot sun and sweet sounds and scents of the Isle of Spice.

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The Caribbean is in everything my family does. It is in the way we gather, laughing and talking nonsense for hours on end. The way we cook, the way we celebrate each other and support each other through hard things.

My father, my aunts, and my uncles built something here that did not exist before they arrived. A foundation. And on that foundation, my generation has been free to build differently. I was raised on the strength of what they built, and on the expectation that I would build something of my own.

I am a mother of two daughters and already an entrepreneur. Legacy is the second company I have started from the ground up — and the first that has felt like coming home.

It started with longing to deepen my connection to Grenada. To invest in the island my family is from, and to create something that would take me back to the feeling of Caribbean warmth and strength no matter where I am.

So I made it.

A single-origin Grenadian cocoa, blended with the island's nutmeg and cinnamon.

Legacy Cocoa Tea is for the woman with two worlds inside her, who carries her ambition quietly. Who keeps a heritage in one hand and a future in the other. Who knows that stillness, like sweetness, can be inherited.

It is a love letter to my Granny, who kept her family tight. To my father, who left so his children could inherit the choice to return. To every daughter of the Caribbean diaspora who is learning, slowly, that you do not have to choose between the place that raised you and the place that is in your blood.

You can carry both. You can build a legacy that holds them together.

This is for her. This is for you.

For my two daughters.

This is for the next eight children, and the eleven cousins, and the grandmothers we have not yet become.

— Michelle Garraway, Founder

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