When you ask me where I am really from, you unknowingly remind me that I don’t truly belong here. But what if, Canada is the only home I know? What if, I was raised in a Canadian household just like yours because my mom was raised by a Nova Scotian mother? What if, when I say I am half Nova Scotian, I say so as an act of resistance. What if, I need you to know that I am just as Canadian as you are? That this is my home just like it is yours. What in the world does it mean to be Canadian anyway? Are you truly a Canadian if you are the original descendants of the English and French settlers? Or are you truly Canadian if you identify as Indigenous? What makes a true Canadian and who has a right to truly belong here without question? Why is that my grandmother’s ancestors have lived in Canada just as long as some of your ancestors, yet my Canadian identity is constantly questioned while yours is accepted? Maybe that is why Canada has never truly felt like home, because my identity and affiliation to this country has been questioned my whole existence simply because of the color of my skin. I remember going to Guatemala in 2017 and for the first time, I felt so at home in a place. I felt more at home in Guatemala after being there for a few weeks than I felt at home in a country that I lived in my whole life. And maybe it had to do with the fact that the people’s faces in that country were closer in skin tone to mine? Maybe it had to do with the Guatemalans' hospitality, their ability to embrace you and welcome you into their home as if they’ve always known you? I felt at home in a country that was supposed to be foreign to me, because for once, my skin color did not seem like something that signified my difference and my inability to belong. And no one ever asked me where I was really from, to them I was just a Canadian, no questions asked.
0 Comments
"Where do I come from? Where am I going? Why am I here? Who am I? All children, regardless of their racial or socio-economic backgrounds, need to know the answers to these questions. They need to know who their ancestors are, who their heroes and villains are; they need to know about their family's traditions and cultures and the community they are a part of. Our children must feel that they are loved, valued, and worthy members of society who belong in this world exactly as they are." I didn't always talk about and think about my blackness this much. To be honest, it really wasn't until I was in University that I started to really understand what it means to be black in this world. Growing up, I attended a mostly white middle school and high school and I never really felt like I fit in in any of these spaces; I felt like an outsider and like I didn't really belong. It wasn't until I was in University that I started to realize the ways in which race and culture might have played a role in the disconnection that I felt between many of my peers in school. Back then, I didn't even know much about the concept of race and how others like me experienced exclusion and a feeling of otherness because of their skin color and culture. But when I came to University I started to learn so much about race and social justice and how race impacts how we navigate different spaces. I remember I went to Urbana in 2015 and they talked so much about race and racial reconciliation and my heart felt so alive when I heard people talk about people who looked like me and their experiences. For most of my life, I didn't have many role models outside of my family who were black. I didn't see myself represented in the children's books we read in school nor in the history lessons that were taught to us. So when I heard black speakers share their experience of being black in America on a stage with a crowd of 16,000 people, I felt so excited and like this is what I had been waiting for, for so long. At Urbana 2015 I saw black people represented in the speakers and worship leaders and conversations we had and for once, I felt like I was being seen and recognized for my black heritage. And for the first time, I saw how I could use my blackness in a powerful way to stand up with those who were being silenced because of their blackness. At Urbana 2015, my heart was lit on fire for the struggle of people who look like me and I felt like God made me black for that very purpose, to stand with other black people. Some people may wonder why I talk about race so much. Some people might honestly get annoyed whenever I bring up how I am the only black person in a specific space. But I need you to understand that I only celebrate my blackness so often because I have ignored it for so long. For half of my life I have been mostly disconnected from my culture and heritage and have been disconnected from people who look like me. Being so disconnected from a part of who I am has impacted me in profound ways. Growing up, I remember people would sometimes call me an oreo, meaning I was black on the outside but white in the inside and that would hurt me so much when people would say that. I have always wanted to connect to my roots and culture but I simply never knew how when I was mostly surrounded by people who had no understanding of my roots. I feel like now, as a twenty-one year old woman, I am rediscovering all the things that I lost as a child and teenager; the connection to my people, culture and heritage that most people have the privilege of having from a young age, I lost. I am finally learning what it means for me to re-discover a part of who I am and where I come from. So, be patient with me as I learn more and become really passionate about my blackness and culture. I feel like I am finding something that I have been looking for for so much of my life, and this process of connecting to my roots is slowly changing me in so many ways. "A people without the knowledge of their history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots" |
AuthorRecent Brock Graduate and First Year Teacher! I love to talk about life, justice and faith. Archives
March 2023
Categories |