We are not held back by the love we didn’t receive in the past, but by the love we’re not extending in the present.
~ Marianne Williamson
I was back in an urban setting for six days over the past weekend. Somehow, I began to feel very disconnected and unsettled.
My emotional state triggered observations of all that appears to be broken and in need of repair. The agitation had me wanting to advocate on behalf of those who have become subservient - be they visible minorities, service providers, caregivers.
Let me make it clear that it is not my intention to glorify life outside urban centres. In my rural community, I have witnessed disrespect for visible minorities and service people. I have just had the luxury of temporarily minimizing my exposure.
It started with seeing the lawn signs with the caption that there is no place for hate here. As mentioned in my last blog, I could not help but focus on the fact that there is hate percolating even here in Canada - a place where diversity and inclusion are cornerstones of the Canadian identity.
Having once been told that I would gain instant WASP legitimacy by marrying my open-minded husband, a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, I am hyper-aware when I am treated more respectfully than someone who appears or sounds foreign. I happen to be a non-visible minority who has been privy to small-minded views at times.
Again I preface this blog by admitting that I recognize that we see circumstances through a lens of experience, not necessarily as others see them. I do not consider myself a victim. Adversity has helped increase my resilience and nudged me to speak up on behalf of those who can't.
Unfortunate loss
Going through old mail, I came across my university alumni magazine. A story about Lee Anna Osei caught my attention. She is a former high-level athlete from Toronto who is now one of the few Black coaches in Canadian university sports.
Mentioned in the article was her brother Samuel who committed suicide in 2012. Like me, he was the first in the family to earn a university degree.
Samuel was two years older than his sister Lee Anna. He was not athletic but was identified as gifted in math and science and graduated top of his class.
Shortly after entering the corporate world as a chartered accountant, his mental health began to decline. He was working 18 to 20-hour days and was constantly fearful he would lose his job.
Investigating his life further, I learned that Samuel had experienced racial discrimination and a lack of support in the workplace.
His story struck a chord. As an immigrant who worked hard to assimilate and blend in, I felt that I had to work that much harder than everyone else to prove my worth. A sense of indebtedness permeated my state of being. I never felt like I was contributing enough. An irrational and constant underlying fear that I would lose my job lurked beneath the surface.
I thought about another highly accomplished colleague whose family immigrated from Pakistan and settled in an affluent community in the Greater Toronto Area. At one point, when he was a child, he woke up to see graffiti on his garage door reading, Go home Paki.
To prove himself worthy, he worked hard in school, became a high profile lawyer and eventually Member of Parliament. He was charismatic, kind, hard-working, accomplished and influential. Sadly he passed away at the age of 49 from cancer treatment-related immune deficiency. Prime Minister Trudeau spoke fondly and sadly over the loss at the funeral.
Refusing to be silent
On the odd occasion when I bring up stories like these in proud Canadian households, I am quickly reminded how much more welcoming and accepting Canadians are than Americans. That may be so, but having personally arrived in Canada at the age of nine not speaking a word of English, under circumstances that led me to feel like a burden to society, I know there is room for improvement.
I will be the first to admit that I grew up in a family that glorified whiteness. Sadly, this is not uncommon in even Black and Brown households, who revere lighter complexions. Having worked my way into more homogeneous white-collar communities, it quickly became apparent that all that glitters is not gold. Formal education and achievement do not necessarily guarantee open-mindedness.
Extending love
I was in our temporary suburban townhouse Tuesday when I heard the alarm go off in the neighbouring home. Overhearing a neighbour say it was a false alarm, initially I ignored it. But it lingered for what seemed like forever, so I ventured over to see if I could help.
My neighbour is just learning to speak English. I will call her Jane. Jane is here from Shanghai with her teenage daughter.
An alarm service person had come to help earlier. He had provided a code and instructions but did not go in to help execute and ensure success. Neither Jane, another young man, nor I could follow the instructions. Frustrated, I suggested we turn off the household fuse. When we did, the alarm stopped. We all jumped for joy. Jane gave me a heartfelt hug of appreciation.
Shortly after the incident, Jane knocked at my front door. She brought me a thank you gift - completely unnecessary but so thoughtful. I learned that because of the pandemic, Jane has not seen her husband for over two years. She is just learning to cook.
Jane would love to have someone with whom to practice speaking English. She enjoys mindful movement and Buddhist teachings. I can hardly wait to see her again. It felt so good to make a small difference in her life when the opportunity presented itself.
Closing thoughts
While I did aspire to quietly blend in and spare my children the adversity I experienced growing up in a foreign country, I now dare to speak up diplomatically and honestly on behalf of those who can't.
Collectively we need to do more to combat racism and discrimination in its various forms. Anti-Indigenous, Islamophobic, antisemitic, anti-Black, anti-immigrant, homophobic views are destructive to the fabric of society.
Feeling safe, loved and welcome are basic human needs that when satisfied facilitate greater contribution. To build a foundation for change, we must be willing to admit that we have a problem. Only then can we take constructive steps to create more just and equitable communities.
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