The Prerequisite
Let me start by saying that I will never know the pain, suffering or racism Black and Indigenous people experience. These words are not reflections from my own experiences with racism as a Indian person, but the unlearning I have been going through, and will continue to go through, to work towards restructuring an entire society built to crush Black and Indigenous peoples. This is generational work; it does not end with us.
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I remember the first time I learned what anti-racism work was. I was seventeen years old; my leadership class was about to head outside to do some community work and I tossed on a sweater. Understandably, considering the 30-degree warmth of June, my teacher asked me why. It was simple – I didn’t want to get a tan. I didn’t want my skin to get any darker.
She gave me a long look and said, “That, my dear, is racist.”
I was immediately filled with incredulous anger. How dare this white woman try and tell me I was racist. She never feared for her safety because of the colour of her skin. She didn’t know how I’d grown up being treated like an object to consume rather than a person. She never had to watch people ridicule her and her family because of the way they look. She knew nothing. I knew racism – I was not racist. And so, in my tell-tale way I narrowed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and said nothing. Yet another part of growing up was learning that you don’t argue with your elders.
Fortunately, this teacher knew me far better than to let that silence go.
She asked me to think about why I was worried about having darker skin. To consider what I thought having darker skin meant. And to research anti-blackness.
Over the next few days that stubborn rage subsided, and I began to reflect on how for as long as I could remember I was congratulated for my light skin. Coming from an Indian and African background there was no question – the fairer and whiter you looked, the more lovely you were. One memory has always stood out vividly: my sister (with a much darker skin tone than mine) and I were standing at the top of the stairs when an auntie continued to point out to my sister how fair my skin was, how rosy my cheeks were, and how my hair fell in soft ringlets — as if my sister did something wrong by looking like the rest of our family. I think that was the moment I started to believe I had to work to be better. To be whiter. I started to believe that the darker your skin the less admired, adored, and cherished you were. And it was with those memories I realized where my anti-black racism started.
My first lesson in anti-racism was to acknowledge that despite my community involvement and “treat everyone with kindness” policy, despite the fact that I was pretty unanimously viewed as a good person, and despite the melanin in my own skin, I had a lot of work to do. My second lesson was to read Understanding and Dismantling Racism: The Twenty-First Century Challenge to White America by Joseph Barndt – a gift from that teacher of mine.
Fast forward to twelve years later, and I am still actively working every single day to continue unlearning and dismantle systemic racism.
One of the hardest and most humbling lessons I have learned was coming to grips with the fact that all the reading, studying, understanding, and listening I was doing was no more than a prerequisite to the real work. It was a necessary task to undertake, and one to be regularly returned to, but it is hardly where the anti-racist work begins. That work begins when you move from an academic understanding of oppression to a personal look at how your everyday choices perpetuate the dynamics of oppression. It begins when you start to pick apart the society that has raised you to disproportionately harm and oppress Black and Indigenous peoples. It begins when you take a hard look at your life and start to recognize all the changes that need to be made – and then you start to make them. (If this sounds exhausting, it’s because it is. But the role of an ally is to do this work.)
Here’s the thing: every choice you make is political. From the clothes you wear, the food you buy, the media you consume, the career you have, the way you travel, express yourself, and simply exist in this world—every choice you make has impact. Whether you are buying a trendy shirt from Zara (the fast fashion industry is ripe with injustice), snacking on an out of season peach imported from California (migrant worker programs are the backbone of the global food system in North America and exploit the skilled labour of BIPoC), passively accepting city budgets (the average expenditure of city budgets across Canada allocated to policing is staggering and unacceptable, especially when compared to the money allocated to social services) or hopping in your car to commute to work (the building of gas and oil pipelines like the ones through the Wet’suwet’en Traditional Territory are clear examples of environmental racism)—each choice contributes to a lifestyle, and the accumulation of lifestyles adds up to a culture of normalized oppression. The act of reading a book or sharing resources online is simply not enough. To truly participate in anti-racism work you need to change your life.
You may be reading this and thinking “That is impossible. There is no way I could afford to survive/work/live in a way that allows me to completely avoid oppressing other people.” And that, my friends, is why racism is systemic. The system was created in a way that forces you to contribute to a racist, oppressive society. It is why this work will not end with a protest, a week of silence on social media, or the last chapter in a book. It will not end overnight, in a year, or in twelve years of work. It simply will not end until the whole system changes.
This all may feel overwhelming and paralyzing; if your entire life needs to change to create a world where Black and Indigenous folks can live without fear, then where do you even start if you want to make real impact? The simple answer is: with yourself. There has been a lot of conversation lately about how “this isn’t about us” with the implication that this revolution is about Black people. I would like to challenge that. While there is no mistake that the conversations should center on the Black and Indigenous communities and the ways in which the system exists to harm them, the work is on us. It is on the white allies, the business owners and policy makers, the non-Black POC who are often raised in a culture of anti-blackness, and the people who have the privilege of not having to experience the systemic racism Black and Indigenous peoples have been faced with for generations. So much of this work is reflective and internal; change will not happen until it is recognized that this is, in fact, very much about us and the role we play in an oppressive society.
If you are feeling shame, discomfort, fear, or resistance to change of any kind, I urge you to lean into it. Sit with it, reflect on it, and figure out the necessary steps to combat it. This work is a journey; you will likely make mistakes (I know I have) and perhaps change your path as you learn. But there is privilege in this work: as Black and Indigenous peoples put their lives on the line for this fight, the sacrifice of livelihood, comfort, and convenience seems so small. As you are doing this work, you will need to be listening to Black and Indigenous voices and be receptive to being corrected by these populations you are trying to support. Sometimes your impact will not align with your intention; I encourage you to not let the fear of making a mistake prevent you from trying. It is simply an act of being open to being told where you went wrong.
As you start the real work, I think the best place to begin is to ask yourself: what does my community look like? Is my social network diverse? Am I consuming media that shares the voices of not only people like me, but also those whose voices are often underrepresented? Do my hobbies/passions/work include the voices of BIPoC? If not, why might this be the case? While the act of diversifying your social media feed may seem like a small step, what you will be doing is opening up your media consumption to taking part in the pain, trials, triumphs, joy, and perspectives of people who don’t share your lived experiences. And if you can’t find voices of BIPoC within a community, that means there is something about it that does not allow space for them.
Once you have started to listen to the voices of Black and Indigenous peoples and have heard what they are asking for, the next step is to ask yourself how you can participate in enacting these changes. Where can I add impact? What is my current role in this racist society and how can I actively make a difference? What are my skills and areas of expertise, and how can I use these to make a difference? What does my own privilege look like, and how can I use that to assist in supporting the voices of communities facing oppression? There are so many different ways your role can take shape. Maybe you work in a field where you can advocate for better care and treatment of Black and Indigenous peoples. Maybe you exist in higher education and can push for changes that allow for more representation within the ivory towers (libraries and laboratories included). Maybe you are an artist and can demand for inclusion in markets, show bills, and learning opportunities. Maybe you simply have a hobby you love and can find ways to make space for BIPoC people in that world. You know your own strengths best and using those abilities to leverage and advocate for change is a beautiful thing.
As social media feeds start to share less advocacy, I urge you to be critical of the actions you take and the motivations behind them. Performative action is not the same as productive action; the work you do might not be something that is easily seen but should be felt. It should be something that you think about every day as you move through life. Take time to reflect on what you have learned, and how much of that information was truly absorbed. Did it impact you? Did it cause you to find actionable items to take on? What steps are you taking to make real change? Are you still listening to the voices of the people you are trying to support?
The system has been failing so many for too long; these voices you are listening to now have been saying versions of the same thing for hundreds of years. We are at a critical time where it is possible to change the course of action and make way for a more equitable and just society. This is exhausting work -- there is no question. But it is tangible. And attainable. I believe there is deep value in allowing yourself to grow in a sustainable way as this is going to be lifelong work. So - let’s do the dang work.
