Stories of my life - The privilege of space- part 5/6

4. The privilege of space:

I remember when I was little, before we would go out as a family, my mom would sit us down, all the children in the household, to have a few words with us. She would tell us “This is us going out. Stay quiet, be quiet. Don’t move if I don’t give you permission and when I say it’s time to leave, you get up and leave without questions. I am warning all of you. Hum!” And then we would go out, and we would not move until mom was telling us it was ok to. At the bank, at friends’ house, at the hospital, in public spaces, we knew he had to behave, and we did. 

I think I was around 17 or 18, on the subway in Paris. Near me, was seated an African woman, and her two children were in front of us. Then they started acting out, fighting and being loud. It did not last long. I saw their mom’s eyes growing severe. So severe. And I had flashbacks of my mom doing the same to us a few years back. She gave them THE LOOK, the African mom look, and they quieted down without a word. 

My children are 9 and 11, and those of you who know them know they are well behaved ! As a mom, I do not tolerate nonsense from them when we are in public spaces. I have become that African mom. My friends and I, up until a few years ago, were always making fun of white people children who were soooo misbehaved, running everywhere all the time, without their parents reprimanding them from it. We thought it was a cultural thing. White people children were unruly, and ours weren’t. And we never questioned it, we just considered ourselves better moms lol.

It's only in recent years, through therapy, through the personal journeys that some of us have being taking up, that we understood that we were acting out of generational trauma. I understood it when my father explained to me one day, how it was for them during colonization. Enslaved and some colonized people never had the right to move from one city to another, one region to another, before asking permission from the “gouverneur”, the local colonial authority in place. My father also told me about being put in camps during the decolonization movement in Cameroon, and just leaving at night to go grab food for the community. For African American, the experience of that is called segregation. And mom had to have eyes on their children at all time, you did not want one of your children to attract the authorities' eyes on you ! So, everyone was staying close, children were quiet and as invisible as possible. 

Yeah, so I realized behind the control, I may have acted out that trauma, where deep down inside of me, I knew that the space my children and I are moving in are not safe, are not for us. White little girls and boys grow up inherently knowing that the world belongs to them. They can go anywhere, they can do anything, the world is their oyster. My parents still have special prayers for me anytime I have to take a plane. 

In sub-Saharan Africa capitals, there is the concept of compounds, closed or not, where only expatriates or well-off nationals live. The schools where their children go is usually close by, the stores they go to are close by. Other people have to have access to those space. 

In Tunis, I live in a part of the city called Franceville. I was told when I came here, that that’s where French officers and colonizers were living during the protectorate era. They built a school for their children in the area, and Tunisians were living at the periphery of Franceville.

Today, Franceville is not such an area anymore, it has become a mixed part of Tunis. The French school is still there, and the pupils are mostly Tunisians. These dayes, la Marsa and Gammarth have replaced Franceville. Of course, everyone is free to come and go, but the area is mostly made up of expats and well-off nationals. The French school is mostly made up of French students. Friends who come from abroad to live in Tunisia, always tell me they want to live in La Marsa. Like everywhere else in the world, the best spaces are where you have  mostly white neighbors. In the US, the policy is called redlining (if I am not mistaken). The policy exists in France too. Your children go to school in the area you live. And the “best” schools are not mixed. They are mostly white, let’s be frank about that. And everyone rushes to go live in those neighborhoods, to give their children the best chances.

See when I say racism is a system ? This is a good example. Do you realize how everyone of us have literally participated in a segregated system? So, children who do not attend white school are left behind; I am not going to give you numbers or write more about this, it’s not the goal of this post. I just want to attract your attention to the fact that racism is a thing, it’s everywhere, and denying it only slows any progress we can make towards a world that is fairer and spaces that are truly shared.

Stories of my life - The privilege of universality- part 4/6

3. The privilege of universality:

Ok, time for a story. If like me, you are crazy about everything shoes, you may have heard about Louboutin, the brand. It’s a brand I like. The reason why I like this brand over all other high-end brands, is not because they make better shoes, or because they have better designs, or whatever factors in when you love a brand. I appreciate Louboutin because it was the first high end brand that would make shoes in a nude color that would match my skin tone. 

When I saw their signature shoe made in what is “nude” for me, I knew I had to get that. 

For the first time in my life, I too could say I am wearing something “nude”. It was three years ago, I believe. When my white friends obliviously talk about the nude color with me, I silently chuckle and think “I think you mean beige!”. “Nude” literally means “skin tone”. My nude would be your brown. But I get it, nude is the skin tone of a white person, and the rest of us just has to deal. Right? Same for Band-Aids, same for clothing or hosiery, same for everything else that is made based on white standards.

White is literally the standard for the rest of the world, and to be able to fit in, some POC resort to become as close to white as possible. 

I encourage you to read about the phenomenon of skin bleaching or hair relaxing and realize where it comes from, realize how black people around the world have been taught to hate the skin they live in. 

Talking about self-hate, I want to draw your attention to the subject of hair, specifically black women hair. If you don’t know it by know, it is a thing, my white friends. Be very careful when talking about it or approaching the subject, because there too, the trauma is real.

Let me explain a bit: For 500 years, black people have not had any agency over their own bodies. Being slaves in America or Europe, being colonized in Africa, black bodies have belonged to white people for the longest time.  They could not move like they wanted to, they could not live where they wanted to, they could not circulate like they wanted to, they could not reproduce like they wanted to. It’s our raw truth. 

Throughout the 19th century up until the 1940s, people could go and visit my ancestors in a zoo, pet them, but not give them food because they had already been fed. 1940, it makes it 80 years ago today, so it has not been that long. Think about it. My parents are in their 70s. And I think the last time you could see black people displayed in a zoo was 2007. I encourage you to look up everything I am writing here, I am not doing it for shock value. You will understand how the black and brown people imagery is ingrained in the white collective unconscious.

Also educate yourself about the Minstrel Shows, and how they have contributed to depict African physical traits are being unattractive and subject of mockery, while praising white traits are dainty and beautiful and everything else positive.

Educate yourself about the slave code, and how it instituted racial classification based on the percentage of white blood black had in their veins. It went from mulato (half and half), quadroon (3/4), octoroon (1/8), and so on and so forth. And as you would correctly guess, the whitest the better ! 

Up until today, in the US, in Africa, in the Caribbean, the lightest skin among POC is seen as not only more beautiful, but also strategically more powerful, as being light would open more doors that being dark. A huge part of this imagery, is hair texture. Black hair types are still stigmatized, seen as not professional, not tidy, not clean, hard to maintain, etc. Look up the business of hair relaxing, weaves and other hair products for black women. It’s one of the biggest industries out there. Black women have been told all their lives that the way they look is not beautiful, and that their hair were not the standard. 

Last year, in 2019, in the US, New Jersey, Tennessee, Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois and other states have proposed legislation to explicitly ban race-based hair discrimination — tackling a remaining loophole in the law governing discrimination in workplaces, schools and other public places. California and New York were the first to sign legislation into law in July, and New York City issued guidelines on the issue earlier this year.

So, up until last year, an employer could still tell a POC: “it’s your hair or your job”. Yes, my dear friends, black women are still discriminated against today, because of their hair. See the Washington post article here: https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2019/09/19/more-states-are-trying-protect-black-employees-who-want-wear-natural-hairstyles-work/

Black bodies were the foundation on which the ideology of race was founded, flourished and perpetuated. Black bodies are still today objectified, subjects of curiosity, feared, imprisoned, punished or made invisible, depending on the white space they find themselves in. Read about it, there is plenty of educational material out there.

Personally, my journey to self-love and body acceptance is ongoing. I was telling you about my stint in corporate America, where I was told that the hair had to go, if I wanted the promotion. And out went the hair. It was 2005. When I went back home to visit my parents, my mother was appalled, she could not imagine me with my natural hair ! Next thing you know, we were at the hairdresser, relaxing the little bit of hair I had on my head. My hair grew back, I eventually left the job and I continued regularly relaxing my hair, without really questioning the act. 

Then I got pregnant and was advised to stop putting chemicals on my hair, to protect my unborn child. That’s when I started questioning it all, wondering why I was doing all of this anyway ?

I thus completely stopped putting chemicals in my hair and since then, I have been using my hair to show a bit of who I am and where I come from, reclaim a bit of my history. 

I know my hair is source of curiosity in predominantly white spaces. To cope with the sometimes unwanted attention, I have decided to be proactive and answer questions before they are uttered. I really don’t mind explaining my hair to people. Just don’t touch them, don’t pet them, and don’t single me out during staff meeting by pointing them out. Be mindful of the hurt it had taken to grow that beautiful crown.

Stories of my life - The privilege of apathy- part 3/6

2. The privilege of apathy, ignorance or obliviousness:

When he was 5, my eldest son came back home telling me that one of the other children told him he was ugly because he was black. I will always remember that conversation, because while teaching my son a few expletives, I also had to tell him that some people would not like him simply because of the color of his skin.  

I personally had to learn that when I was 8.

Being black robs you at a young age of a certain innocence. POC children will believe in Santa Claus, in the tooth fairy but before that, they would have learned a bit about the ugliness of the world out there. I can try to shelter my kids, but I would do them a disservice if I don’t try to tell them how things work out there. Being a parent, I have to encourage my kids to stand strong and speak for themselves unapologetically. I am afraid that very soon, I will have to tell them: “but not too much tough ! just keep your head down and don’t say anything.” For some young men and women, it’s either being proud or being alive.

My children know the stories from my side of the family, my parents have started talking to them about colonization. My husband and I have started talking about slavery (we started that discussion the day he came back from school telling us about the positives of colonization, can you believe it?). You see, POC children cannot afford to be ignorant of race relationships and they learn early to be smart about it. They cannot walk around completely oblivious, because they see the impact it all has in their home, in their community. They can’t be sheltered. 

Non POC can live their whole lives, without even once knowing about those issues. It’s a huge privilege.

Let me tell you another story: The Cameroonian ethnic group I come from is called Bassa. My mom told me once that when they started school, children were forbidden to speak Bassa, at all. They had to speak French. The teachers were clerics and they would beat every kid that would utter a word in Bassa. My parents were sent to school by their parents to the clerics, because that was the only way for them to become someone. They did not have the choice. My great grand-parents, my grand-parents, my parents, were all given names by those clerics. Christian names. So, they all had Christian names, and the Bassa language was beaten out of them. Later, my parents went on to earn multiple diplomas in France, and became what I called earlier the model minority. 

Then they had me and my brother. My first name is Arlette, an 18th century French name. My parents did not speak Bassa to us on a regular basis. They would speak it among themselves (thank god, because otherwise I would not be able to speak it today), but they would not speak Bassa to us. So that is the reason why FRENCH IS MY FREAKING FIRST LANGAGE. I speak perfect French, perfect English. Some others speak perfect Portuguese or perfect Spanish. Some learn because their family immigrated to a western country. It’s has seldom been by choice, always by necessity and survival. It was beaten into them or imposed. 

That’s is why I resent so much being asked how come is speak well such and such language. 

It’s a trigger to a lot of Africans. And I have been asked multiple time over the years, believe me. I find it callous from a white person, to ask such a question to an Afro descendant. When I am at the receiving end of that question, I know the person has never open a world history book, and I know the question is not about being curious, but rather look for an anecdote. When one is curious is about something, he or she starts researching the object of his/her curiosity, reading and educating themselves. When one asks the question in passing, then I know it’s just for anecdotal purposes. So, they can say “oh I met this smart African girl and her English was sooo good!”. I don’t want to be an anecdote.

So, you see, white people can walk around ignorant and oblivious. They don’t have to learn about other cultures, if  they don’t have to or want to. By the time I was 18, I had learned about Europe, US, Japan, Australia history, geography and sometimes politics, everything that would make it easier for me to move in predominantly white circles. For people like me, it’s always been a matter of survival. The more we knew, the best chances we had to be successful in life. Going to the best schools, learning all this history, in fact learning as much as possible, has always been for POC the only way out. No choice, failure not an option, only excellence accepted. So yes, all of it has made me the person I am today. I has shaped me, and I am proud of who I have become. You might see me and think “wow”… and sometimes I wow myself. But before making make stupid remarks in passing however, please be mindful of the generational trauma that has carried me where I am today.

White people can be apathetic, or ignorant about the issues that affect me as a POC, because those issues will never impact their lives. They have been taken out of their state of apathy or ignorance those past few days, because the recent movements have the ability to impact their own lives. That’s the sad true, but I remain optimistic that something good for all of us can come out of this.

Stories of my life - The privilege of individuality- part 2/6

The last few days have been interesting, to say the least. Confused, reeling, frazzled, hopeful, I have been going through all those feelings. Why, I am wondering, am I feeling so much from events that happening at the periphery of my life? 

And then I realized that for the first time really, I had the feeling I could open up about racism, about how racism has shaped my life. I feel like for the first time, I can share with everyone. Racism is deeply intimate experience, it touches your sense of self, of worth, of value, of acceptance, of belonging. It makes you vulnerable and those past few days, I could admit even to myself how bad I have been hurt.

So for the first time I feel I can share that vulnerable part of me, with you. I can show a bit of what is under the bravado and the flamboyant persona (get ready, there is quite a lot to unpack lol). And I am not the only one. Other friends have shared the same sentiment. We’ve been going through so many questions the past few days, wondering why now? So many people dead, so many voices unheard, what made it that we are being noticed now? 

Also, we feel vindicated. Because black women from my generation in fact, have stopped trying to be heard. I am thinking about Clarisse Libene who is providing therapy to black women only and teaching us about self-love, Marie Da Silva who is providing coaching for black women on work place survival, Dani, book therapist only working with black women, Therapies pour Afro-descendantes, who is providing us with mental health information and resources, and many many others who created magazines, beauty products, podcasts, tv channels and opened spaces for black women only. Because we knew. We knew that what we needed would not be provided by our white counterparts. Tired of not seeing ourselves being represented in mainstream (read white- centered) media and spaces, we’ve created support networks, we’ve written book, created information and media that would solely focus on our needs and lives.

And I also realized that my vulnerability, my rage, that part of me that is often tired and exhausted and frankly feel like giving up sometimes or just screaming, I could only give it to black women. And I also realized that I developed a persona, an image of me that I could share a part of me, the fun , flamboyant, courageous, smart one. But my vulnerability, my questions, what I consider my failures, I have never felt safe trusting a white person with that ( with the exception of my husband).

So, this is the first and last time I am going to try to explain. I am going to try to explain, because as my friend, white or black, you should have all of me, not just part of me.

In the next four to five days, I am going to open up about my wounds, about how or why I have been affected. I am going to let my self be vulnerable. I am going to talk about my trauma, and how they relate to your privilege as a white person. I want you to KNOW, racism is not just a concept, something far away. Racism hurts, it kills, it’s real for people like me. 

In exchange of me laying it out here, I will ask you one thing. In a few days, once you are done reading about me and my life, be actively anti-racist. Not non racist, but anti-racist. Get to work. You don’t get to know me, and sit quietly while I am hurting. If you don’t educate yourself, if you don’t vote, if you don’t do the hard work that is necessary to dismantle that system, quietly leave this space please. 

I am not saying that to shock anyone, I am just saying I am done giving passes to people who should know better especially after I have shared. 

That said, let me start with the first topic.

1. 1. The privilege of individuality:

Being an individual is a privilege only white people are afforded, and it is often used as a weapon against minorities. When you talk about racism and colonialism, the white person will tell you “yes, but I AM NOT the one who colonized your country”, “I AM NOT the one who acted that way”. Using their individuality allows them to distance themselves from the wrongdoing that as a collective, they have inflicted on others.

I cannot begin to tell you for example about the stress incurred by black and brown people around the world every time there is a terrorist attack in a western country. Because we know, we know we are not seen as individuals so the actions of a few persons are going to be blamed on the collective. When a black or brown person commits a crime in US or in Europe, whole countries are banned, put in red zones, and millions of individuals are considered dangerous for humanity as whole. When a white person commits a terrorist attack, he is an individual. Who would think about banning Canadians or American from a country because of one crazy person? No one. When a Cameroonian commits a crime in Europe, you better believe I am going to be searched twice as often when I cross borders in the next few months.

That is the reason many of us are pushed by our parents at a young age, and by ourselves later, to become the model minority. Study hard, work hard, keep your head down and don’t get noticed unless it’s for your excellence. Excellence has become what we need to reach. Always, for everything. Failure is not an option, because my failure is the failure of my community. White people are not upheld to the same standards. 

Just look at the Obama presidency. As a collective of black and brown people, we held our breath for eight years so that at least no scandal touches his presidency, and see how as a collective until today, we are so proud of him. We are not proud because he had the best policies, certainly not. But from a moral standpoint, he had been an almost perfect president. I think we felt that a whole community would be judged by the way he held himself. And I think he knew that too. He was carrying with him his African and his American ancestry, and he did it with a lot of class. See ? model minority. The one we thrive to be, non-threatening, so that  maybe us too, we could get somewhere. There is a joke that sometimes circulates among POC, saying “Imagine if B. Obama had behaved like the Orange man while he was president. We would not have been able to walk proudly on these internet streets.” Yes indeed, we think white people were expecting him to act all “ghetto” and to get into all kinds of troubles. That would have reinforced their prejudices about the monolithic collective we call Black people, regardless of their individualities.

The model minority is smart, has multiple diplomas, speak eloquently, is straightening her hair, all of those things that white people find non-threatening, because they do not correspond to the idea they have from the minorities in general: living in peripheries, having children while being in school, having no father figure, and so on and so forth. For Africans, they imagine we come from poverty-stricken households, walked barefoot to go to school, and made it where we are just because we were smart.

That’s where questions or remarks such as “you are smart -for a black woman”, or “you speak so eloquently- for a black woman” come from.

I know black doctors and lawyers in Europe, who would tell you that at the end of the day, being a model minority doesn’t relieve them from the stress of being a POC, of being racially profiled, unjustly arrested, etc. They still belong to the collective known as POC, with the prejudices that go with it.

So yeah, that’s the privilege of being an individual, only for white people. What is it going to take, for POC to be seen as humans, as individuals ?

Stories of my life -Part 1/6

The racial education of Arlette

The past few weeks have been complicated on a personal level, and the past days have been gut wrenching, to say the least. 

I have struggled to put words on my feelings regarding everything that is going on in the US right now, and in other countries every day. A few conversations with friends have prompted me to write the next sentences (be ready, it’s long). For every person who is not part of a minority, for every person who has never been in the position of being THE OTHER, it could be hard to grasp.

 What is racism exactly? 

A few people have told me “I am to racist, I don’t see color.”  “We are not racist in this country, look at your privileges.” And it hurts. It hurts because when I hear that, I feel that the person has not really seen ME.

Yes, violence is one manifestation of racism. Violence is the harshest manifestation of racism, but know that racism happens every day around you. There are other manifestations of racism, and no amount of education or money will shield you against racism when you are a person of color. 

I cannot speak for everyone so to my friends here, I will just say what racism is to me:

My first encounter with racism was very early on in my life. When my parents started telling me at a young age, that because of the color of my skin, I would have to work twice, three times as hard as my white counterparts, for my efforts to be acknowledged. A lot of us were raised that way.  I have long thought that my parents were teaching me the value of hard work but in fact, no. What they were telling me, is that the system is rigged against people like us from the very beginning, and that for every step my white peers would make, I would have to make ten to be considered equal. They were telling me to be smart, they were showing me how to play the system. How did I come to that conclusion? Well, I realized later on when I was older, that only parents from minorities background where saying that to their children. None of my white friends were ever told that they would have to work harder that everyone else to get somewhere.

So, from a young age, I started integrating survival strategies. How to survive as a black person, but also as a woman in a world where people are very likely to see you as less than. So, you work harder, you try not to make yourself be seen too much. 

So, I did what my parents said, I studied as best as I could. I was on the path to become a model minority- God forbid I make a mistake that would reflect on the whole community-, the success story that is applauded in all white circles, the example they could use to tell other black people “see, the system works, you can do it too!”

Then I went to college in the US, where my experience as a minority started. A few days after I arrived, I went to the school orientation, a reception where new students are officially welcomed and given tips on how to live your best life on campus. Then a few days later, I got the informal and unofficial orientation from my fellow minorities’ peers. There were tips on how to live your best life on campus as a black student. The advices sounded like: “don’t walk with other black people in a large group, you are likely to be targeted by the police. Carry your ID at all time, you never know when you would have to show it to an authority figure, they are less forgiving to black students. If you are at a party and the police comes, get close to a white person, you will have less chance to be arrested.” Those and many other advices on how to stay safe as a black girl on campus. Those tips then added another layer of strategies to my survival kit. I had strategies to get that apartment I wanted, in case the landlord was biased: my friends again, filled my kit: Work with the landlord or lady over the phone at first. Send your paperwork through email so that when you get there, your good standing precedes you and they may ask less questions. If you can, go visit with a white friend, so they don’t think you are going to bring your 10 persons family into their house.

A few years later, I moved to Miami, with my then boyfriend. He too, had tips for me: « keep your loud mouth to the minimum here, people are prone to get their guns out at any provocation here. » Ok, noted. Shut up, but I kind of already knew that. But we also discussed what to do if I was arrested while driving: short answers, no backtalk, hands on the wheel at all time, keep your papers close so that you don’t have to make sudden movements. It was an easy conversation, but the three times I was stopped in my car by the police, all for minor things and nothing really happened, I started crying. Every time I was pulled over, I would put my hands on the wheel and would start crying. All those three times, I think the policemen just let me go with a verbal warning because the tears were a bit much. Even my boyfriend started making fun of my outbursts every time I was stopped. It may sound funny when I say it now, but in retrospect, is it normal? Are the police not supposed to be there for me too? Why should it be a traumatic experience?

Here in Tunisia or when I go to France, the color of my skin is also an issue. For every administrative transaction, I put my husband’s name forward. People tend to be more agreeable to me and things tend to move faster when I am called BOURREAU instead of NGO BADJECK. When we travel as a family, my husband is always the one carrying our paperwork, putting himself as a shield between me, my children and authorities. Not because I am dependent or from some sense of chivalry. No. It’s just that as a white male, people take him more seriously than they do me. When he says “she’s my wife and she is with me”, my experience in a country’s border is way more agreeable and faster. It’s sad, but it is true.

Often, my skin color has played for me, more than it has played against me. I got into a competitive college in the US. Yes, I had good grades, but I was also made aware of the fact that the school had a certain quota of people of color to reach, and I was the perfect « quota » candidate for their statistics. 

When I got my first well paid job, the person who hired me told me that apart from my CV, it was because I was reminding him of his trip to Senegal years ago. Ok. 

When I got the promotion I wanted, I was asked to cut my hair, because they did not want me to look too ethnic. They also asked me to shorten my last name “to make it easy for every one”, but I drew the line at that.

So, you see, dear white friends, the color of my skin does not give me the privilege of being “colorblind”. Racism is an integral part of my life, it has shaped the person I am today, and it’s the same for most people of color I know. A lot of my life milestones, decisions, happenings, have to do with the way I look. This is not me complaining, don’t get it twisted. I am just trying to explain to you what I think racism is, and how it benefits you more than me, whether we like it or not. 

That is what systemic racism is, and I know you are not racist, but be aware, this is the world you, your children, me and my children live in. 

People of color are raised not to make themselves too comfortable or not to feel too safe in spaces where they are the minority. They are raised to do more, to be more, if they want some type of recognition in spaces where white people are the majority. They are taught to toe the line, not to be too much, not to do too much so that their white counterparts do not feel threaten.

I have never been a subject of police violence. I have been at the receiving end of a few racist slurs, but they are not worth mentioning. 

Like the majority of people of color, I have been subjected to racism more often than not, simply because we live in societies that were not built for us.

My sweet friends, my white friends, this is being what being privileged as a white person look like: You never have to have non-stop survival strategies, because the world we live in was built by you and for you.

For me, those ingrained strategies are facts of life and part of who I am. And like other minorities, you don’t think about it, you just move on and move forward, you don’t even question it. 

It is all triggered and comes back when someone makes a careless remark and tells you for example that they don’t see color. You don’t see color, you don’t see me? Lucky you, to have the privilege to be colorblind. Because for me the color of my skin is everything. The color of my skin is a factor in what school I will get into, what job I am going to have, if I am going to get the house I want, if I am going to be able to travel where I want, heck, the color of my skin could also determine if I am going to get along with you!  And I have strategies for all those parts of my life. And when you come to tell me that you are colorblind, then I start feeling the exhaustion of it all. It is exhausting, it’s tiring.

The protests you see around the world currently, are people being tired of fighting all days every day, for themselves, for their children, for their communities. It’s people being tired of devising strategies and being shown that those strategies don’t work anyway.

Racism is not only violence or slurs, racism is a system that was built for you my white friends, by your forefathers. It’s a system where me, as a black woman is not expected to thrive.

Some of you have asked me so what should I do ? Here are some ideas: 

• • Educate yourself and reflect on your biases. Know your history, your country history, the role race relations have played in your education. Most westernized school systems have erased black history, but the facts are there to see, if you really want to see. (To my Tunisian friends, a lot of the people working as help in your houses have university diplomas. Check. Help them, give them a chance. If you can, help them obtain residency. If you do that, other people would be empowered to do the same and that’s how we can start changing mentalities. If you don’t want to do that, ask yourself why.)

• • Vote. Vote for you presidents, your ministers, your parliament, your mayors, your judges, vote for all those people who you think can change the racialized system we are all living in. My dear white friend, racism is not an opinion, it’s a system that you are still benefitting from. For me, for my brother, for my children with whom I still have not had the race discussion, please vote, so that the current system can be rebuilt to work for us all and not just for you. Please vote for someone who would change the police laws so that when I go to bed, I am not worried about my brother. Please vote for someone who will create school laws or working laws, that are going to allow my children not to have to work three times harder than their peers to make it.

• • Speak up! Your white skin is a privilege. If you see an injustice, speak up, do something. When you go to a government building and see black students, other minorities waiting or being in distress, try to find out what’s going on, don’t turn a blind eye, you never know who you could help. More often than you realize, you skin could be a shield for people under racism violence. One of the worst things when you are a minority and you are in distress, is that you lose your voice. Sometimes you freeze, but most of the time, you are not listened to, you are not heard, your voice does not count. When you are in a regular setting, you think just let me shut up and move on. When you are in a confrontational setting, your voice is often not heard. So, my white friend, if you are there, be an advocate and speak up. Speak up when your boss makes a racially charged remark against your colleague, speak up when you are in a plane and someone is being manhandled.

Open your eyes and start seeing color, see my color, my humanity. Think about what all of it does to a person sense of self. Imagine being born knowing and learning that you are not enough and that you have to prove your humanity every day. For most black people, this is their reality. It does not matter where they live, it does not matter how much money they make, the number of their diploma does not matter. Racism permeates every sphere of our societies, and they are not immune to any of it. If you don’t believe me, ask them, really, what they had to go through to get where they are today. I ask yourself if it was you, if it was your child. If you don’t find it acceptable for you, why would it be for them?

Or maybe you don’t care, and it’s ok too.

Also, I have been asked to give examples of micro aggressions. FAQ that get on my nerves and since we are on the subject, let me lay it out here. Not to make anyone feel guilty, but to give examples of how unconscious bias sometime manifest itself and how it can be hurtful:

• • Every time you get a CV in front of you and you think « hum…that’s a strange name ». Stop yourself and check your bias. Where is that thought coming from ? You might think you are just curious, and nothing may come out of it but if you say that thought out loud, think about how that would make the other person feel. Don’t you think your name may sound strange to someone else too? It’s their name, deal with it and get over it.

• • Every time you think about asking a person of color where they are from, check yourself, check your bias. More often than not, the person comes from the same place as you and if you are not in a setting that is comfortable for them, you will only succeed it otherizing them and make them feel that they don’t belong. Would you ask the same question to a white person?

• • Same for the language question. Try not to ask how they speak such or such language well. It’s insulting. They and their ancestors have learned your language by force more than 500 years ago.

• • Try not to ask how come they are here, whether it be the country or the workspace or any other space. Like you, they went to school, they worked hard, they traveled, they are living their life experiences. That’s it. They have the same right as you to be in that space. Would you ask the same question to a white person?

• • If they don’t volunteer the information, try not to ask the signification of their name. Not every culture has meaning for every name, let them volunteer the information, and ask yourself why you would ask such a question.

• • If you have visited the same country as the person you are talking to, refrain from asking if they know this or that person from the same country. It’s dumb and makes you sound ignorant. Check your bias.

• • In the workplace or among friends, when the person tells you where they are from, if they have not asked you to, don’t start immediately direct them to the next person that looks like them, come from the same country or the same continent. It’s like if I meet a person from Spain for the first time, and I tell them « oh you come from Spain, that’s nice, I know someone from Finland, I will introduce you! » Again, that sounds ignorant and thoughtless. What does that person being from Spain has anything to do with you knowing someone from Finland ? Don’t assume that because they have something in common, they should get along. Why ? Check your bias.

• • Also, if you don’t know a person like that, don’t touch their hair, don’t ask them to sing a song from their country, don’t ask them to dance or to speak in their native language, if you are not asking other people to do it. It’s horrible. People of color bodies are not there for your entertainment. Check yourself. Check your biases.

Those are examples of micro aggressions that happen regularly to POC. They may sound like they are nothing, and taken apart they are really not that serious but over a lifetime, they shape people, they shape the way they apprehend their environment, the place they work at, the way they apprehend their relationship with you because based on your questions, they will have to steel themselves against what is going to come out of your mouth not to feel hurt and not to hurt your feelings. At the end of the day, after some time, they will feel the hurt of those micro aggressions and you never will.

« in a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist. We must be anti-racist » Angela Davis.

Much love,

Arlette

Hollow

Where are you from?

I came to detest that question with passion.

Where are you from ?

Creating separation and division, rather that closeness.

Where are you from?

THE question before the assault

Three times

Hands grabbing you

Stones being thrown

Propositions being made

Three times…or more

Because of my face

Because of my skin color

Where are you from ?

I am different

It means I can be accosted

It means I can be assaulted

Then I wondered

Maybe I misheard

Maybe it was not about me

Is that assault?

Maybe it’s not

And anyway,

It’s not a big deal

Worse has happened to many

It actually did not go too far

You are making too much of it

Not everyone is the same

But still,

How am I supposed to feel after stones were thrown at me?

How am I supposed to feel after those hands 

Felt that they had the permission to grab and hold me

How am I supposed to feel when I am being singled out 

and requested to meet to talk about the beauty of Cameroonian women?

I don’t know

I felt perplexed

I felt sad

I felt angry

I felt dirty

All of the above

I should have 

I should have been more assertive

I should have called him/them out

I should have pushed back,  harder

I should not have answered

I should have yelled

And then,

I felt like I should not write this

I felt like it should get over it

I felt like maybe I am exaggerating

I felt like it’s not the worse that could happen

I felt like not feeling sorry for myself

I felt like I am not a victim 

I felt like tomorrow would be ok.

Yes.

In the meantime, 

How to I make this hollow feeling go away?

How do I tell myself not to cry, 

When I just want to curl up and cry ?

I just know one thing

Don’t ask me where I am from

I won’t answer