This is a life essay from a Black man and his experience and point-of- view. This is about Black Lives Matter and before the huge news in Jun. 2020:
Sept. 20, 2016 "Black equality matters": I found this article by Kwame Twumasi-Boateng in the Globe and Mail today:
Canadians can’t afford to be smug about inclusiveness, Kwame Twumasi-Boateng writes. Not all racism involves burning crosses
I grew up in rural New Brunswick. My family was the only black family in the area. My sisters and I were the first and only black children in our schools.
In one sense, this was an advantage. It meant that, to some extent, we got to define our own narrative. Depending on your point of view, we got to or we had to demonstrate “what a black person was” because there was no reference point.
Most black people are not afforded that luxury. As I got older, it became apparent to me that no amount of wealth, education or achievement can insulate a black person from that fact.
Examples of this can be found in the comments section of any news article relating to President Barack Obama. For many, no matter what their socioeconomic circumstances, being born black means being born into a societal gutter.
The “American dream” proclaims that if you are willing to work for it, you can, and will, achieve success and happiness. The myth embedded within the dream is that everyone has an equal shot at proving themselves.
However, imagine that you know you are starting a race miles behind the rest.
Imagine that you know you will have to expend a considerable amount of energy convincing people of what you are not, before you even have the chance to convince them of what you are.
This is the reality for black people. For centuries, they have been robbed of so many things, but perhaps the most tragic is the licence to dream freely.
When my three sisters and I were little, my father told us that because of our skin colour there would be many instances when we would have to be far better than everyone else just to get the same level of respect.
What a terrible thing for a parent to have to tell their child. What a terrible weight for a child to have to carry. As we grew up, that weight became less and less of an abstract concept.
When one of my sisters was in elementary school, a kid on the playground once told her to “wipe that dirt off her face.”
When I was in high school, I once discovered a comment about “n-----” scrawled on a bathroom stall.
When another of my sisters was in university in Montreal, my father helped her find a place to live. He spoke to a woman on the phone about renting a particular apartment. She enthusiastically told him the place was available, to come right over and they could sign a lease that day.
My father is Ghanaian, but because of British influence in his schooling and several years living in Britain, he speaks with an accent that is hard to place – not obviously “black.” When my father and sister made the short walk to the apartment, the woman refused to open the door, telling them through a screen that the place had been rented.
This same sister once applied for a job with two identical CVs – one with her real name, one with a fake “white” name. Guess which person got an interview?
I could recount more similar stories but (I hope) you get the point. We in Canada like to think of ourselves as an inclusive, welcoming society. And we are.
But our country also has deeply embedded prejudices and a non-trivial number of people with views that can only be classified as racist.
Yes, we are improving. But we should be wary about adopting an attitude of moral superiority over our neighbours to the south.
Racism is usually far more subtle than burning crosses on people’s lawns. It is revealed when a person’s first reaction to the murder of a white police officer is outrage and sorrow, but to the murder of a black man it’s to wonder if he was acting “suspicious.”
It’s when people cannot (or will not) distinguish Africa the continent from the dozens of diverse countries that comprise it. It’s when the only thing people associate black culture with is rap music and sports.
It’s when brown-skinned people who look nothing alike are repeatedly mistaken for one another. The subtext of all these examples is a refusal to see people of colour as the human individuals they are.
If any of the above applies to you, you have been, to some extent, complicit in the marginalization of black people. You’ve helped condemn an entire race to the very ghetto you may associate them with.
For otherwise well-intentioned people, that’s a tough pill to swallow and requires deep effort and introspection. Casual calls for peace and unity do not. We are not living in an equal society.
Yes, unity is what we all wish for, but the conversations on unity cannot precede the conversations on equality. The burden of peacemaking should not lie on the backs of the oppressed.
All of this is why, even here in Canada, we should be paying attention to the Black Lives Matter movement. Of course all lives should matter. But Black Lives Matter arose out of the reality that what should be and what is are two different things.
To counter Black Lives Matter with the assertion that all lives matter is to suggest that all parties in this struggle are suffering equally – and that simply isn’t true.
As a daydreaming child in elementary school, I distinctly remember imagining floating out of my body, looking down and seeing what everyone else was seeing. One black kid. As an adult, I now realize all of the difficult implications of that fact.
Oct. 4, 2016 "A Syrian family's loss became my blessing": Yesterday I found this article by Marie Wadden in the Globe and Mail. This is a really heartwarming essay.
I’ve been given entry into the lives of strangers who respond to the tiniest act of kindness with deep gratitude, Marie Wadden writes
Her name is Marie Al Salloum, and she was born on Aug. 22.
Marie is named after me. War forced her family to flee Syria, but their bad fortune has been a blessing in my life.
Just before last Christmas, I joined many other volunteers in offering to help settle 250 government-sponsored Syrian refugees, or 30 families, in St. John’s. We stuffed hats, mittens and toiletries into welcome kits. We brought groceries to the families’ temporary accommodations.
We went shopping with them for bedding, towels and basic housewares. And when they were ready to move to their own homes we met the movers to ensure the right furniture was delivered.
I met the Al Salloum family one cold day in February. Theirs was the last house on my visiting list, and conveniently located near my home. The furniture was still in boxes when Ibrahim Al Salloum, dressed in a slightly oversized winter coat and cossack-style hat, burst through the front door, his arms filled with the family’s belongings in plastic bags.
In no time, his wife, Fozia, had supper under way while their five children excitedly explored their first Canadian home: a six room, two-storey row house. The doorbell rang, and a telephone installer came in and joined the chaotic but joyful household. Fozia offered us all “café.”
I didn’t hesitate to choose the Al Salloum family as the one I would visit regularly. As a volunteer visitor, I was to act as a guide to the city and its services and coach them in basic English skills. Volunteers were given strict guidelines to foster independence. We were advised, for example, never to lend money or be too generous with gifts. This suited me because, as a retiree, I have more time than money.
My own children are 21 and 18, so my nest is rapidly emptying. My contact with 12-year-old Asmahan, eight-year-old Malak, the five-year-old twins Asmaa and Falak and their little brother Mohammed, 21⁄2, has taken the sting out of my children’s growing independence.
How often in our lives do we get a free ticket into the lives of strangers who respond to the tiniest gesture of kindness with the deepest gratitude? The first word I learned in Arabic was shukran (thank-you), and it has been said to me more times than I care to count.
Marie was given my name before she was born: Fozia would point to her belly and then to me, saying “Mar-ee.”
It was an honour I hardly deserved, and one I thought might change when they made more friends. Now that Marie is here, I wonder at which point the idea took form. Was it when I sang a goofy rendition of “head and shoulders, knees and toes” as an English lesson on body parts?
Was it after I went door to door in our neighbourhood with the children, rounding up toboggans and slides so they could have their first taste of winter fun? Was it when I introduced them to more people who helped them thrive here?
Because they are thriving. Ibrahim takes every English-language course on offer, and by the end of this year should be fluent enough to resume his plumbing trade. Fozia, like many immigrant women with small children, has had fewer opportunities to learn English, but that will change. The children are soaking up the new language like sponges, and Mohammed shows an early aptitude for music.
The language barrier has prevented me from having deep conversations with Ibrahim and Fozia. I know little about their lives in Syria, though it’s clear that their separation from parents and siblings is painful. Fozia so missed her mother the day Marie was born, I found her crying when I went to see them.
In April, Ibrahim was invited to speak to a Grade 5 class. Each student was given a chance to ask him a question about his experience since coming to St. John’s, and he answered through a translator. The kids learned that in January, he was afraid he’d made a mistake in coming here because of the cold and his children’s refusal to eat locally available food.
He spoke about the helplessness he’d felt since he couldn’t read our signage or understand grocery labels. He wrote words in Arabic on the blackboard, from right to left, so the children could see the extent of his challenge.
One child asked: “If you can’t speak English, how do you ask for help?”
I was sitting in the back of the classroom with Mohammed and the twins. Fozia was at a medical appointment. Ibrahim caught my eye as he answered. “I don’t have to ask for help,” he said, “because people here ask me how they can help.”
I like to think Marie Al Salloum is named for all the Canadians who have opened their hearts to refugees. I hope my namesake’s generation will one day return to a peaceful Syria, and have the opportunity to know their real grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. I am honoured to be a surrogate in the meantime for all these missing relatives, but it feels wrong to benefit from their loss.
The Al Salloum children are excited to be back in school. Fozia loves her neighbourhood, and Ibrahim knows the bus routes better than I do. Their need for me is winding down. When I hear Marie’s siblings teach her the “head and shoulders, knees and toes” song, I’ll know my job is done.
Marie Wadden lives in St. John’s.
May 26, 2021 My opinion: In Feb. 2021, I posted all these articles about Black people and Black celebrities in honor of Black History month. In Jun. 2020, I could have posted all this after George Floyd's death.
However, at the time I posted all these job articles and women in the workplace job articles. I was focused on this:
1. Get EI/ CERB
2. Look for a work from home job because my 2 restaurant jobs are closed
I have a lot of race articles saved into my drafts.
This week's theme is about race:
"Remembering Emmett Till"/ "New survey a 'first step' to dismantling anti-Black racism, says researcher"
"It's not my name that's wrong"/ "Against the margins" (East Indian race)
My week:
May 21, 2021 "'White privilege at its best': Lori Loughlin slammed for Mexico vacation": Today I found this article by Ellie Spina on Yahoo news:
Lori Loughlin and husband Mossimo Giannulli are under fire after a federal judge granted them permission to travel to Mexico for a family vacation.
According to TMZ, the couple, who have both completed their prison sentences for their parts in the notorious college admissions scandal of 2019, plan to visit San Jose del Cabo for five days in June.
Now, they're stirring debate for being allowed to travel while still on probation — and raising questions about privilege.
"White privilege at its best," one person tweeted, while another added, "Sounds about white."
"If they were Black or brown, no judge would have granted vacation time," another commented.
'White privilege at its best': Lori Loughlin slammed for Mexico vacation (yahoo.com)
My opinion: This comes to 2 situations.
Situation #1: Go on family vacation to Mexico
Pro: They get to go and have fun in Mexico.
Con: They make themselves look bad with their white privilege and are criticized on the internet.
Situation #2: They stay at home.
Pro: They don't make themselves look bad or worse. They have a bad reputation already.
Con: They don't get to have as much fun in Mexico.
I would tell them to stay at home to save their reputation. Some of you may say: "People are always going to say bad things about you no matter what you do, so go on vacation."
May 24, 2021 "Customers call out banks for increasing fees during pandemic while profits are up": Today I found this article by Erica Johnson on CBC news:
Williams and other customers with TD, CIBC, Bank of Montreal and Scotiabank have recently contacted Go Public about fees that increased, or are about to, for a range of accounts, products and services. They all question the timing.
The banks tell Go Public that the increases were made after careful consideration and that other options are available to customers.
But a banking critic says the banks are jacking up fees because no one is stopping them.
"Prime Minister Trudeau said a year ago that the banks should be doing more to help Canadians — and gouging them is not helping them," said Duff Conacher, co-founder of Democracy Watch, a citizen group calling for government accountability and corporate responsibility. "It's about time he and the finance minister stepped in."
Williams says TD's changes to its "preferred chequing" accounts — the type she's held for more than 25 years — are "exorbitant and totally unfair." The bank is raising the minimum balance required for avoiding fees from $2,000 to $5,000.
"In an environment where people have lost their jobs, they're on furlough, they're trying to get CERB payments, who's going to be able to keep $5,000 in their bank account to not get service fees?" she asked.
On top of that, for customers who don't maintain the new, higher balance, TD is raising transaction fees on those accounts — from $1.25 to $1.95.
Customers call out banks for increasing fees during pandemic while profits are up | CBC News
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