Tired of not having a place to land, twenty-year-old Akúa flies from Canada to her native Jamaica to reconnect with her estranged sister. Their younger brother Bryson has recently passed from sickle cell anemia--the same disease that took their mother ten years prior--and Akúa carries his remains in a small wooden box with the hopes of reassembling her family.

Over the span of two fateful weeks, Akúa and Tamika visit significant places from their childhood--the home they grew up in, their mother's grave, a favorite beach--where Akúa slowly spreads Bryson's ashes. But time spent with her sister only clarifies how different they are, and how years of living abroad haves distanced Akúa from her home culture. "Am I Jamaican?" she asks herself again and again. But beneath these haunting doubts lies her anger and resentment at being abandoned by her own blood. "Why didn't you stay with me?" she wants to ask Tamika.

Wandering through Kingston with her brother's ashes in tow, Akúa meets Jayda, a brash stripper who shows her a different side of the city. As the two grow closer, Akúa confronts the difficult reality of being gay in a deeply religious family, and what being a gay woman in Jamaica actually means.

By turns diasporic family saga, bildungsroman, and terse sexual awakening, Broughtupsy is a profoundly moving debut novel that asks: what do we truly owe our family, and what are we willing to do to savor the feeling of home?