Newsflash: Canada is racist, too

“Go back to f*cking India…you camel-riding mother*cker.”

“Did you ever wear a turban? You should. I think your wife would like you better.”

"When did you come to Canada?"

"Are you a Hindu?"

Those were some of the choice words hurled at B.C. lawyer Ravi Duhra during a filmed confrontation over a parking ticket. Duhra began recording when he saw the racist man becoming irate with a parking enforcement officer who was issuing him a ticket.

Before we act all surprised, and start pretending that there's no possible way this could happen in Canada the great, let's get real honest about racism in the north.

The video made rounds on the internet, garnering lots of attention on social media, with local politicians, comedians and A-list celebrities like Seth Rogen reacting to the online buzz on the confrontation.

That dumb monster truck makes him look comically small. https://t.co/hQ0ki676lF

— Tim Heidecker (@timheidecker) October 24, 2016

@timheidecker @pattonoswalt Abbotsford has a good air show though.

— Seth Rogen (@Sethrogen) October 24, 2016

The racist comments circulating in Abbotsford media today are deplorable and have absolutely no place in our province. #bcpoli #cdnpoli

— Michael de Jong (@Mike_de_Jong) October 24, 2016

Duhra says he felt sadness and anger at the time of the confrontation and was initially “shocked”, unaware that the man seen in the video would become so aggressive. The man repetitively hurled insults at Duhra before yelling “white power, motherf*cker” and beating on his chest.

“He actually threatened me,” says the parking enforcement officer, who refused to be identified on camera out of fear.

The situation has been brought to the attention of the Abbotsford police, as well as their hate crime department, and officials say the man in the video is known to police.

“There are people like this out there,” Duhra says. “If you don’t see it, you tend to think it doesn’t happen.”

But it does.

Ask any person of colour and they’ll share anecdotes. Maybe they’ll tell you that they get pulled over more often than their white friends. Black women might share the memory of being asked if their hair is real. Maybe someone will recount a coworker making a “harmless” joke in the lunchroom about their food. Or maybe their story will be as horrific as Ravi Duhra’s.

This video is a prime example of how far Canada is from the country’s reputation of being the safe haven that it’s reputed to be.

Sure, Canada is a great place. It is one of the most multicultural hubs in the world, and there are pockets of the country designed to be second homes for people from all over the world. But there are terms and conditions that come with living here, and people of colour often have the fine print read out to them by people like this man seen in the video. There are parts of Canada—and specifically, parts of the population—that represent the gap between what Canada is in theory, and what this place is in reality for people of colour.

Ravi Duhra graduated with honours from the University of Northern British Columbia. He did a double major in accounting and finance before obtaining a joint law degree at the University of Detroit Mercy and the University of Windsor School of Law.

Since graduating, he’s practiced real estate law and managed several businesses. He is currently the managing real estate broker for My Move Realty, with operations throughout the country.

Meanwhile, the man in the video hurling racist insults is described only as being “known to police”.

Isn’t that interesting?

You’ve got two men, both born here in this great country, who obviously went two different paths in life. One of them endured years of rigorous schooling and excelled, becoming a prominent lawyer, establishing businesses within the country that aid our economy’s growth, while the other ended up double (and illegally) parked in two reserved spots, in his pathetic and ridiculously enlarged four-by-four.

Why is it that the people who concern themselves with the ethnicity, the religion and the Canadianness of people of colour are in fact, the most non-Canadian of us all?

Why is it that the people who demand that immigrants, and in this case, non-immigrants, go back to where they come from, don’t hail from here themselves?

Why is it that the very people who say that young, unarmed black men get shot by police because they “do not follow the law” cannot humbly accept a $110 parking ticket for an obvious violation without committing hate crimes in the process?

Why is it that those who claim that people of colour are “ruining this country” and “creating race wars” are the ones that scare their own people so much that they can’t even speak publicly over fear of retaliation?

If you ask me, Ravi Duhra is an exemplary Canadian, as well as an overall smart, accomplished and peaceful man. He refused to engage in a verbal or physical altercation with this man, despite being severely instigated. And perhaps the most Canadian thing of all that he did is simply start recording out of his concern for the parking enforcement officer, who was also white.

There is a very telling aspect of this video, and it is how the irate man keeps repeating, “I’m not threatening you,” and tells Duhra, “don’t be threatened.”

That’s the type of racism that exists in Canada. That’s the type of racism that we have here. The type of racism where the offenders get to decide whether or not the victims get to feel threatened. They have so much power that not only can they oppress us, but they can also dictate how, and whether at all, we are permitted to feel threatened.

So, to the white man in the video, who needs a lesson in both humanity and humility, the question isn’t “where did he come from?”

The question is where did you? 

Where the Fight Against Racism Went Wrong

Today I watched a documentary on the issue of human trafficking. It featured the stories of ex-prostitutes, pimps, johns and the people of law enforcement who serve in the fight against the sex trade.

Toward the end of the documentary, I realized that amongst the many reactions I had, one of them was the gratitude that I had toward the men who chose to fight this particular cause.

One of the officers, Daniel Steele, the Vice Sergeant of the Denver Police had described the reason behind his passion for fighting sex trafficking.

“I just have no tolerance for people who think it’s okay to force women into being slaves.”

Looking at how powerful the influence of men fighting for injustices against women, where most of these acts are committed by men themselves, got me thinking about non-marginalized people fighting against racism, acts mostly committed by non-marginalized people.

A few weeks ago there was the issue of two white student journalists being banned from attending and covering a Racialized Students Union meeting at Ryerson University.

While people debated the merit of both sides of the issue, the stance I took was very difficult to articulate. It was a mix of understanding the importance of safe space for marginalized and racialized groups, but a lack of understanding as to why the journalists were not permitted to attend the meeting, which RSU coordinator Vajdaan Tanveer confirmed was because the student journalists were white.

Since then, I have heard the argument of how them being there would have compromised the ability for group members to be open and honest about their experiences.

Since then, I have heard the argument of how they wouldn’t have been able to understand the experiences of others because they had never experienced racialization.

Since then, I have heard the argument of how they are a part of the problem because they belong to the hegemonic group that essentially, has done most of the racialization.

But since then, I have pondered the irony of students being banned from attending a meeting focusing on the experience of being racialized based on the colour of two peoples skin.

I have wondered how a group that prides itself on “campus-wide” initiatives could possibly contradict their own mission statement by being exclusive to only the racialized group.

And since then, I have truly wondered if their lack of acceptance for the two white students was an act of racialization in itself, believing in my heart that it was, but feeling too guilty of being “part of the problem” to admit it.

Here’s the real problem.

Somewhere along the lines, pride and pain took over the mission of conquering and peace. The lines of division and segregation that a racist society drew in the sand in history got darker and bolder over time and separated us even more.

And now we’re not even in the same sandbox anymore.

In another case, protestors gathered in Downtown Toronto for a Black Lives Matter protest towards the end of 2014. The organizers instructed non-black protestors not to speak to the media if they were approached. They wanted the protest to focus on black voices.

While I understood the intention, I truly did not comprehend the method.

After watching this documentary today, and seeing far too many race crimes, protests and just everyday acts of intolerance, I’ve come to the conclusion (or at least now can confirm what I long believed) that racism can’t just be fought by blacks.

It can’t be fought by sitting in a room and talking about the instances you were the victim of racialization. That might help you heal, but it won’t help stop racism.

Racism can’t be fought by silencing the voices of others, hoping the audience will then hear our voices louder.

Racism can’t be fought without making alliances with other races, to show the rest of the world that racism is the issue of people who haven’t even been victims of racism.

To show them that yes, racism is your problem too.

Racism isn’t just an issue that ethnic minorities face. It’s a society-wide issue that needs to be addressed by those who are oppressed, those who have been oppressed, the people belonging to the groups who historically, have been oppressors, and those who know nothing about oppression whatsoever.

Racism is not a competition.

It’s not a competition to see who’s been the most oppressed, or who’s worthy of fighting the cause vs. those who aren’t. It’s an issue that needs to and especially cannot be defeated by society unless we stand as a united front.

After I watched the documentary today, I imagined what my response would be if I were a man.

And if I were a man watching that documentary, I would realize that sex trafficking is a widespread issue. I’d see that there are men; fathers, brothers, police officers, federal government workers who prioritize this issue, one that doesn't affect my gender nearly as much as it does to another, as a worthy cause of being fought.

And so I might not be so intolerant the next time I see a street worker and call her a derogatory name.

When people see their own people fighting a cause that doesn't affect them negatively, they get to thinking twice about the affect of the cause in a broader sense and might even feel more compelled to fight, too.

Sadly the reality is that people need to identify with a cause before they decide to partake in the fight. That’s why racism is a cause primarily fought by minorities, feminism by women, university strikes by university students and TAs, anti-Islam by Muslims, anti-semitism by Jews, etc.

So if we continue to minimize the face of racism by making it seem like a “black” issue or an “Asian” issue or a “Middle Eastern” issue, how will the importance of fighting it ever really mean anything to the group of people that seem to benefit from minorities being racialized the most?

Maybe I’m confused. But closing the doors in people’s faces and telling them their voices don’t matter, at least not in this instance, was what got us to where we are in the first place. Sometimes the only way to avoid the legacies of a brutal and discriminatory history is to rewrite it.

Luckily, we all have pens.

Why I'm So Over Black History Month

Every year, the shortest month of the year is dedicated to celebrating the history of blacks.

High schools all over North America put on assemblies and put on an ethnic façade while some teachers just wonder about how they’re going to make up for the class time that they and their students are missing.

I know this because I went to high school. And I specifically remember one of my grade 10 teachers whining about the assembly, in a way that no one would have whined about a Remembrance Day assembly, not even a spirit assembly.

It got me thinking, even all those years ago, about why we still celebrate black history month. And about whether we even should.  And about why, this month, I will hear more about Valentine’s Day than I will about my people.

In my eyes, black history month is a sad excuse that society uses as a means of defending it’s systemic and widespread racial issues.

Kind of like the people that keep that one black friend as an acquaintance so that when they’re accused of being racist they can say, “I’m not racist, I have black friends.”

Thanks, but no thanks.

I don’t feel the way I do because of the teacher that doesn’t care. I don’t feel the way I do because I feel our history isn’t important. I don’t feel the way I do because I’m angry at white people. I’m not angry at all. I’m just hungry for some change.

History is taught very early on in the public school system. I learned my white history, my mom’s history-Christopher Columbus, Henry Hudson, Napoleon Bonaparte, Sir Francis Bacon, John Locke-all before high school and then even more once I arrived there.

I learned about Jewish history, the holocaust, the horrifying truths of Auschwitz, Dachau, Sobibor, and Ravensbruck, the inspirational and heart-wrenching story of Anne Frank, all before I hit grade ten.

I learned about Chinese empires. Canadian wars. How America became America. But it wasn’t until grade eleven that I, by chance, took an elective that was barely worth a credit in the eyes of administration and learned my black history, my father’s history. Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King and Malcolm X and Dr. Carter G. Woodson, to who we owe the pleasure of having a month at all.

The problem, or just a small, tiny sliver of it, is the way in which it’s taught, or not taught in most cases.

The public school system teaches us about slavery before they teach us about the African kings and queens that characterized the societies-the same ones that were stolen from their own soil. 

So what about the kids that don't take the elective? What about the kids that enjoy family studies more than they enjoy history, I imagine there would be a lot, for obvious reasons. More importantly, what about schools that don't even offer African history classes? I imagine there would be a lot, also for obvious reasons.

The point is, if I hadn’t taken that elective, I would’ve lived my life thinking that my black history was only about slavery. Thinking that it was only about the Transatlantic Slave Trade. They taught me all of this before they ever even mentioned the effects and the legacies of what this would do to black people, my people, most of which I had to discover for myself.

And to make up for it all, we are given a month, the shortest month of the year, to compensate for how robbed we were and still are.

In spite of all this, it’s an offer we shouldn’t accept.

I’m sick and tired of imagining all the little boys and girls who are taught that society is built to break them down, and that they should either expect to fail, or expect to have to work ten times harder than the average person. And by the time they reach the age of lost hope, it’s because of some reason other than what we promised them it would be.

I got lucky because I learned about my white history before I learned about my black history; I was built up before I was broken down. I was blissfully ignorant enough to believe that I was built to succeed because that’s what my people, well, half of my people, had been doing since the beginning of time, in one way or another.

But I remember my self-esteem plummeting when I learned about the tragic history of Africans. The tragedy that was slavery, the pain that was their kidnapping, and the sad realization that sure, I was from a long lineage of kings and queens, but I was also from a lineage of corn pickers, women who were raped and beaten and sold and traded and not free.

If I had learned about Queen Nzingha, Nefertiti, Tutankhamun, Ramesses II, and Hatshepsut before I learned about slavery, I would have understood that slavery wasn’t the beginning of my people. But more importantly, I would learn that it wasn’t the end of my people either.

Whenever a rumor breaks out in school, the subject of that rumor impatiently awaits the day where they can get back to their life as usual without being haunted by that rumor.

But if that rumor is all that person hears about day in and day out, they eventually succumb to the effects of that rumor and believe they are what the rumor says they are.

And the rumor about us is that we’re not kings and queens, not in the eyes of the people spreading it, anyway. We’re slaves, we’re niggers, we’re subordinate, we’re inadequate, we’re not meant to succeed, we’re less capable, we’re criminals, we’re from broken families and an even more broken society, hell, we are the broken part of the society; we’re the others.

I’m not saying to let go of our history, I’m saying to let go of the effects of how holding onto it has diminished much of what we are, the solidity of our family units, the strength in our men, the alliance between our women, and most importantly, the identity in which we assign to ourselves.

I’m saying it’s time to be, time to make, ourselves equal.

You want to fix this? Teach us our history. Give us promotions, not because you need more black executives for the sake of your company’s appearance, but because we earned it. Stop thinking that a black president means racism is dead.  Stop thinking that having black friends means you yourself aren’t racist. Stop thinking that you have to sing rap lyrics everytime we come around. Stop calling us “coloured”; black is fine. We don't call you caucasian anymore and everyone else gets grouped into the "coloured" group while white people still get to be white. Stop touching my hair and saying it’s “ethnic”. Stop thinking that living in a place like Toronto means you get it.

Because you don’t. And I’m not even sure I do.

Maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s because I’m half white. But if our history is going to be taught in a way that depletes the very essence of who we are, the approach needs to change.

But what I do get is that we need to take the burst of energy that comes around in February towards the education of our history, divide, then multiply that amongst the other eleven months. We need to take it out of the hands of just black people and put it into white hands, Asian hands, Middle-Eastern hands, and to put it into their hands is to put it into their minds. We need to stop treating each history-stop teaching each history-as if one is more important than the other.

And if that’s not true, tell me why Canadian kids can tell you every province but couldn’t tell you where human civilization began? Why do American kids, even the black ones, know every single one of the 51 states but couldn’t tell you the 47 countries in Africa? Why do North Americans spend hundreds of dollars on Jordans and Nikes but give weird looks to the kid that wears traditional African clothing?

White history doesn’t matter more in April than it does in May. So my history will mean just as much to me in March as it does in February.

Why protestors in Ferguson have got to do better

Underneath a "Season's Greetings" sign, fire and chaos were rampant. Oh, the irony. But local shops in Ferguson are not the only things that were set fire to Monday night. Hopes, visions of change, and a homegrown community were also set ablaze. 

A grand jury’s verdict released Monday revealed that there would be no indictment for Darren Wilson, the police officer who shot Michael Brown to death.

It isn’t the first case like this we’ve seen. Sadly, it probably won’t be the last. With the American justice system providing visible favoritism for white, male police officers, this is just the middle of a long, tragic phenomenon.

Watching the announcement last night, so many things came to mind.

Today on CBC’s Metro Morning, a freelance journalist named Desmond Cole was spoken to. He was on his way to Ferguson, Missouri.

When asked what he was going there for, he said it was to “bring the story home.” He had been covering it from a far and wanted to go to the direct site of where this was all unfolding. He said he wanted to speak to the people who had been there for months, affected by this endless cycle of disposability in young, black men’s lives. He wanted to see what the police officers looked like, how they were conducting themselves. He just wanted to be there.

But he said something that a lot of people need to be aware of:

“Young, black male lives are in danger,” he said, “if a police officer sees you and perceives you as a threat.”

The media has constantly portrayed young black males as the suspects, the suspects and the victims of shootings of “black on black” crime. But as Cole highlighted, instead of focusing on what needs to be done at this point, people are focusing on the very well justified, but in my eyes, seemingly misplaced, anger of black people.

They condemn the rioting, they condemn the looting, they condemn the fires, but Cole posed a question to these people:

“What other choice do these people feel they have?”

Still, I find myself in a blend of emotions.

I feel disappointed in the handling of the verdict. The riots, the fires, the looting, it’s all just a big spectacle that removes the spotlight from where it desperately needs to be right now, and that is change.

I feel sorry for the Brown family who has continuously asked on behalf of themselves and on behalf of their late son for peace, but still for protest.

And I feel angry.

As a protestor, if I fought for months and months to bring attention to something and not one thing was done, I’d be heartbroken. If, just years after watching the death of Trayvon Martin go unpunished, only to see another young black man die at the hands of an officer, white or black, I’d be crushed.

I look around and do not see leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. that can provide a single, solidary voice of the people. I do not see the same love he had in his fight against hatred. I just see the disappointment, the sorrow, and the anger. I see this sad spectacle that lay at the end of decades and decades of racially-charged inequalities and disregard for justice.

The protestors have to do better because it is clear that we have no one else to depend on. The government has failed us. The justice system has failed us. Barack Obama denied that there is any racial favouritism in the policing of the world's most powerful nation. We are all we have. 

Ultimately, there needs to be more organization in these protests. You can wreak havoc for days but yesterday it was revealed to the world that all the efforts from August until then had not changed much, if anything at all.

There is such passion right now, and if that could just be redirected to create the change we need right now, Michael Brown’s death would not have been in vain.

One protestor told Fox news last night:

“This is exactly what they want.”

It reminded me of the schoolyard bully who got enjoyment from seeing their victim get flustered and overcome with emotion. Sometimes, the best way to fight a bully is to refuse to surrender to their expectations. It is to redirect your anger to your work. Remember your goal, and get past them, someway, somehow.

As much as I may think I understand the anger, the truth is, no one except the civilians, the victims, the Trayvon Martins, the Tracy Martins and the Sabrina Fultons, the Michael Browns, the Michael Brown Seniors and the Lesley McSpaddens, and the many before, and the many to come of the world truly understand.

But the one thing I do understand about anger is the potential for change it can create.

I urge you to fight this fight the right way. I urge you to demand and pursue the necessary changes. But most of all I urge you not to give up. Because without the people fighting this fight, there will be more injustices ahead.

If you want to light fire to something, let it be your cause. 

What's Wrong With Nina Davaluri, America?

On Sunday, September 15, Nina Davaluri graced the Miss America stage with a presentation of a cultural dance routine. Only problem? She did it in a saree.

The only other problem? She’s Indian.

Actually, not really. She is of Indian descent, but Nina Davaluri herself is American. As in, born in America, raised in America, educated in America, and she is in fact a native of one of the most American states in the country, New York.

But she’s not white. She’s brown. And her last name is a little long and a little hard to pronounce. And God only knows the implications of what that trifecta means in American society.

The friendly (and not nearly as ignorant) neighbors to the north of the border looked on with confusion and disgust as Twitter flooded with comments saying the 24-year-old aspiring physician was Arab, un-American, and, wait for it, a terrorist.

A few tweets that caught my eye read the following:

“Miss America is a terrorist. Whatever. It’s fine.”

Oh, and this one:

“Nice slap in the face to the people of 9/11 how pathetic.”

And there you have it folks.

If you ask me, the woman is a class act. Responding only with, "I have to rise above that. I have always viewed myself first and foremost as an American," to the negative responses. 

As much as I wish she had used this opportunity to instead educate the brainiacs calling her an Arab that India and Saudi Arabia are really, really far apart, I wonder if she was in fact distancing herself from her Indian descent. Regardless, rise above she did indeed.

This begs the question of whether this would happen in Canada. Of course, the Miss Canada pageant is not nearly as large of a staple of national pride as the Miss America pageant is down south. But does that really justify the misidentification and defamation of a completely innocent young woman, non-Arab, and certainly non-terrorist, even by affiliation?

The answer is no. Not because we’re all equal. Not because there’s a black guy in the White House, even if he is from “God knows where, Africa” according to one genius tweeter.

The answer is because her skin color does not make her any less American than any other person.

Tell me what an American looks like. Is it a man or a woman? Are they slim or fat? Are they black, white, Asian, South Asian, or maybe Hispanic?

The face of America is changing.

For a country that prides itself on diversity, yet fails to recognize and celebrate individual minority or immigrant communities, talks about itself as if it is a beautifully constructed cultural mosaic, but is really a melting pot, bubbling over with discrimination, and invites people from all across the world to come and chase after the American dream, but stands in the way each time an unfamiliar face takes a step towards it, it's about time.

It’s about time that the American community is reflective of all the things it says it is.

Black man in the White House? Check.

Non-white, non-blond, dare I say, dark woman to hold the title of Miss America? Check.

Good for you Nina. Namaste!