the Queen’s University
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journal
Vol. 149, Issue 21
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Thursday, February 17, 2022
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Situated on the traditional lands of the Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee peoples.
Since 1873
ILLUSTRATION BY CLANNY MUGABE
Black History Month
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News
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Lolo’s Kloset: an interview by Kesha Tabitha Lauree St-Elien speaks to owning a business as a Black woman Kesha Tabitha Contributor What does mental health mean to the Black community today? For decades, our cause has been in a great effort to gain recognition, respect, and success among the Black population of our society. However, running towards these goals has also cost us. The biggest cost is to our collective and individual mental health. To understand how the subject of mental health has evolved among Black youth, I spoke to Lauree St-Elien, ArtSci ’23, the founder of Lolo’s Kloset. St-Elien launched her business at the beginning of the pandemic. As a 19-year-old with a passion for fashion, she aspired to own her own business one day—there wasn’t a better time than the first COVID-19 lockdown. St-Elien began her journey by purchasing necessary materials and planning her new business venture. Today, her online store is up and running and has many supporters. St-Elien has been able to juggle school, her personal life, and her work life with a few bumps on the road. In the fifty-minute interview
Thursday, February 17, 2022
NEWS
we had, what stood out to me the most was an understanding of the pressure she felt during this period. As a young Black woman, St-Elien juggled many goals, carried a heavy load of constant societal pressure, and struggled with the high expectations she put on herself. “I’m not just representing my family. I represent my friends, the people that I’ve met in my life—I do feel a lot of pressure,” she said in an interview with The Journal. But how did she overcome the adversity? Unfortunately, like St-Elien, most Black folks have dreams intertwined with the expectation that they must prove themselves, step out of anti-Black stereotypes, and carry the weight of their whole community in working towards the collective good. St-Elien approached her dreams in part by using social media. She felt empowered by the fact that she isn’t the face of her brand. An advantage she’s obtained in running a store via her computer screen is how her business speaks for itself. St-Elien established her online shop during the pandemic. What this means is, when a customer clicks on her unknowingly support a as a Black youth but as a we b s i t e , t h ey d o n’ t Black-owned business. business owner. know her because Though the online world After my talk with they haven’t s e e n breeds an openness to St-Elien, I concluded that her. They purchase her hate and critique, it’s if the Black community items because they like favored St-Elien in defining aims to uplift its people, them and, in doing so, her power not only specifically their mental health,
SUPPLIED BY LAUREE ST-ELIEN
it needs to address societal pressure and create solutions. It’s possible to grow if we learn to turn our barriers into advantages.
HREO launches Black History Month at Queen’s health and wellness, it means everything,” Caesar-Chavannes said. “We need to understand [the importance of] correcting the disparities that exist in access in health and wellness for Black people who are continuously at the fringe of those access points.” Anne Fu During the half-hour discussion session, Assistant News Editor the panelists touched on topics ranging from the impact of racial trauma on one’s The Human Rights and Equity Office physical and mental health, to combatting (HREO) kicked off Black History Month burnout as Black learners and professionals, at Queen’s with an opening ceremony to fostering Indigenous allyship in self-care on Feb. 1. and work. Moderated by Jeremiah Marshall, The conversation centered on the HREO inclusion & anti-racism health of Black staff, students, and advisor, the event included a panel faculty at Queen’s as a predominantly discussion on Black health and wellness white institution. featuring Celina Caesar-Chavannes, senior “I think, for me, Black wellbeing advisor of EDI initiatives with the Faculty is very much self-preservation and of Health Sciences; Wanda Costen, Dean about survival, and about not just of the Smith School of Business; Samara surviving, but also thriving and Lijiam, Social Issues Commissioner at doing what you have to do to the AMS; and Ayden Adeyanju- thrive in whatever space you’re at,” Jackson, EDI student assistant at the Lijiam said. Yellow House. “Many of us are in roles and “When we think about Black positions within our organizations
Opening ceremony ushered in a month of celebration
because of a lack of representation. It’s a term that I coined, to be ‘the lonely only,’” Costen added. “Wellness is a broad, holistic term, but that is lived down in organizations that have an impact. We’re not in a space where we legitimately feel welcomed and included. All that pressure and angst weighs on our bodies.” In discussing the supports and resources available for Black faculty and learners, several panelists acknowledged the need to dismantle the stigma surrounding dialogues on Black mental health and the lack of culturally competent care. “For a lot of people, [achieving Black wellness] requires unlearning, either from the things that their families taught them about wellbeing and health, or the messages that we get from society because they are very often steeped in. Eurocentrism and capitalism,” Lijiam said. “I think it was bell hooks that said, ‘healing is an act of communion,’ and I think that even in my answers today, I can tell that I’ve relied so much
on my friends for a lot of the wisdom that I’ve gotten around wellbeing.” Britta B., an award-winning poet and professor, closed out the evening with a spoken word performance. She took a moment to recognize the importance of Black History Month as a source of visibility and hope for creatives like her. “Growing up myself in Kingston, it was hard to see what was possible for me. I didn’t imagine that this lifestyle that I now have was possible, and it took a lot of encouragement a took a lot of listening to find the permission to be me,” she said. “If there’s anything that I could share with my former selves, [it’s] that you are holding that possibility for someone to see who they can be.” Following the panel discussion, an event calendar highlighting Black History Month celebrations in Kingston was unveiled. This article was originally published online on Feb. 4, 2022.
Thursday, February 17, 2022
Features
queensjournal.ca
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FEATURES The Journal spoke with four members of the SBBA executive board.
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How SBBA approaches advocacy and community building
Features
4 • queensjournal.ca
‘We’re working really hard to make sure people know it’s not a Commerce club, it’s a Queen’s club’ Kirby Harris & Julia Stratton Features Editors In Spring 2020, Julius Adu, Comm ’24, was a high school senior contemplating where to go for university. Queen’s Commerce was one of his top choices, but looking into the program raised questions. “When I was researching Queen’s, they talk about extracurriculars and being involved,” Adu said. Queen’s prides itself on offering ample extracurriculars that students can explore alongside academics. For many students, the opportunities that happen outside of the classroom are a big draw to the university. The Smith School of Business is no exception. Smith houses dozens of student-run clubs, competitions, and conferences that allow folks to build connections with others who are passionate about similar topics while building professional networks. Unfortunately, when Adu was first looking through organizations at Smith, he found it difficult to see any Black representation within them. “I literally went through every single club in the Commerce Society to try and find a Black person, and I just couldn’t find one.” Eventually, Adu found Victoria Chukwuma, Comm ’23, listed as a first-year intern on one club’s executive. Wanting to know more about the culture and community for Black students at Smith, Adu reached out to her. Soon after, the two joined Chinni Kanu, Comm ’24, in founding the Smith Black Business Association (SBBA). Even as the pandemic limited in-person social interaction, Adu, Chukwuma, and Kanu were able to gather a team and launch the club by the summer of 2020. “In my opinion, the pandemic helped jumpstart and give people availability,” Adu said. “Quite honestly, it would have been tough to [form the SBBA executive] if everyone was outside during summer or going on vacation.” Once Adu enrolled at Smith, he used his time in quarantine to bring SBBA to life. “When I was originally starting, coming in as a high school student, that summer I wasn’t really doing much,” he said. “It’s the pandemic, I’m inside, I have opportunities to work on this passion project, be able to talk with others and work through this with Chinni and Victoria. That was a unique opportunity.” To Adu, the creation of SBBA was a benchmark for representation at Smith. But he noticed other undergraduate business programs had already seen a similar shift before Queen’s. “Ivey [Business School] for example, although I didn’t apply, it had the Black Student at Ivey Collective. Rotman [School of Management], under their
business school had Black Rotman Commerce, and I felt like Queen’s didn’t have that,” Adu said. Before the founding of SBBA, Black applicants to Smith would likely have a hard time seeing themselves represented in Queen’s Commerce.
We’re trying to break “those barriers down and really try increase the Black population specifically at Smith
“In terms of high school, a lot of stigmatizations about Queen’s and the Commerce program in general, we’re trying to break those barriers down and really try increase the Black population specifically at Smith.” SBBA has always hoped to fill this representation gap, and the club’s impact was immediate. Adam Trotman, Comm ’24, is one of this year’s SBBA co-chairs. Like Adu, Trotman was deciding what university to attend in the fall of 2020. The existence of SBBA helped make that choice easier. “I took two years off before I came to university and was making the decision between playing hockey in the States or coming to Queen’s. A big factor in that decision was the founding of this club,” Trotman said. “I think it would be to my honest and full understanding that if SBBA didn’t exist, I would have those questions like ‘where’s the representation within Smith?’ And that’s obviously a very isolating view.” *** Louise Nandoh, ArtSci ’23 and SBBA director of diversity and inclusion, chose to join SBBA because it provided a space where she could both connect with peers and expand her network. “The main goals of the club are to provide a safe space for Black students where they can connect in ways where they can also develop professionally,” Nandoh said. Like other Commerce clubs at Queen’s, SBBA is committed to helping its members with career-building and networking. “We want to have professional development for Black students both in the Commerce program and other Black students interested in business. We want to provide those professional development opportunities,” Adu said. In Commerce, networking can be a defining factor in building a successful career. Clubs like SBBA make building those networks easier for their members by connecting them with alumni and industry professionals who have working experience in their field of interest. For students without personal or family connections in the business world, making these connections while at school is a necessity. “A lot of us, like many Canadians, our parents are immigrants or we are immigrants ourselves. So, we really don’t have the best foot in the door,” Trotman said. “The club is trying to serve as that pathway to build those connections, build that
network. Not get you the job but provide you with the opportunity to get the job.” Through running small- and large-scale events, SBBA can provide these opportunities not only for their members, but for a larger community. As SBBA has functioned entirely within COVID-19, nearly all of these initiatives have taken place online. Using virtual platforms exclusively, while challenging, has allowed the club to attract students from outside of the Commerce program and even Queen’s. “With the pandemic, almost every single one of our initiatives was online, so that contributed to social media growth because everyone was focused on what was happening digitally,” Nandoh said. “We had to do everything online. In a way, it was beneficial because we developed new strategies to connect with prospective and current students, and we developed new strategies to have a healthy presence online.” One of the most popular online events SBBA has run is their annual Case Competition. “We just wrapped up our second year of Case Competition, sponsored by a bunch of industry leaders in different fields of business,” Trotman said. “The case competition had eight or nine different schools across 60 or so competitors. As negative as the pandemic has been for a lot of us, [engagement] is one bright spot we’ve had as a club.” While the pandemic has partly driven online growth, it’s the hard work of the executive team that has given SBBA a large audience and community that transcends the university. “Shout out to the marketing team,” Adu said. “I’ll say I need a Zoom background […] I’ll say I need it in three days, and I’ll have it 15 minutes later. I literally cannot articulate how good our marketing team is.” Some of the early events run by SBBA were educational, advocating for diversity and inclusion. In August of 2020, SBBA held their first online event, “Exploring Allyship: The Power of Change.” “We had some professors and some [Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion] professionals talk about being an ally to the Black community,” Trotman said. Since August of 2020, SBBA has held panels and events discussing a range of topics from diversity in sports to financial literacy. Partnering with corporations like CIBC, Rogers, and Proctor & Gamble, SBBA has been able to thrive even as students learn from home. SBBA also runs internal events for its members. Executives and other members can connect with Black professionals and upper-year students, hopefully in a way that may help them navigate the extremely white-world of Canadian business. “We had internal events with a Commerce alumnus, Colin Lynch, about essentially being Black in the business world, or in life, just some of the challenges we face,” Trotman said. *** Creating safe spaces for marginalized students on campus
Thursday, February 17, 2022 is essential to well-being and academic achievement. Anti-Black racism, microaggressions, police brutality, and unsafe classroom spaces can result in consistent trauma, emotional exhaustion, and stress for Black students. It’s essential that academic institutions like Queen’s work to create safe spaces where Black students can breathe and connect to others. As a student club contributing to this important work, the community building being done by SBBA has made all the difference for its members. Tia Gayle, Comm ’23, is one of SBBA’s Policy and Advocacy Coordinators. After transferring into the Commerce program in her second year, Gayle got involved with SBBA. “As a biracial, visibly Black woman at Smith, I would go to most of my classes, and […] I would be the only Black girl in my class,” Gayle said. “[SBBA] has helped my overall experience because I have a community of people who are not only like-minded but can relate to the struggles I’ve experienced at Queen’s.” SBBA also targets first and second-year students specifically, who may have trouble forming relationships as they enter the Commerce program—especially during the pandemic. “[SBBA] helped us form friendships and keep the community inclusive. It’s nice to see all the new first-years coming in who are also Black being able to integrate into our community,” Gayle said. The community SBBA has fostered has made Smith, and Queen’s, a much safer, more comfortable space for a lot of Black students.
Being able to have “people to reach out to
who understand things that other people can’t, as much as they might want to, it’s very comforting and makes a lot of things easier “It’s a little bit more about just having that community, and I hate to put it this way, of people who look like you,” Trotman said. “I am Italian, and I’m from the Caribbean. But I grew up Italian, I played hockey growing up my entire life, so I’ve never really had a community of people like this in my life.” “Being able to have people to reach out to who understand things that other people can’t, as much as they might want to, it’s very comforting and makes a lot of things easier.” For Adu, SBBA has become an integral part of his identity at Queen’s. “My association with the club is my persona now,” Adu said. “I wouldn’t be where I am, the person I am, without this club.” Adu, who now serves as SBBA operations director, works hard to make connections to other Black students on campus. “When I see a Black person that I don’t already know it’s like, ‘How did this one slip through the cracks?’ I’ll make a conscientious effort. I have to reach out.” Adu said.
“I just discovered that there’s a new Black first year in Commerce and I reached out right away. I was like, ‘It’s February, I never knew about you this whole time.’” For so many Black students, SBBA has become a defining, central part of their time at Queen’s. “I think it’s overall improved my university experience, and I think I’m going to graduate with really good memories because of this club,” Gayle said. “SBBA has really been my experience. I think if I had to pick one thing across the two years that I’ve been here that has made me enjoy my experience, it’s been SBBA.” Trotman added. “It’s kind of been everything to me and I think it will continue to be everything.” *** Although SBBA was founded to address the need for community building among Black Smith students, the executive team recognizes the continued need for Black representation across all programs at Queen’s. “From the first year to the second year, [our target] has shifted a lot from Commerce specifically to Queen’s wide. I think we’d all be lying to ourselves if we said Queen’s has the best history with these sorts of things,” Trotman said. The team behind SBBA is adamant that being in Commerce isn’t a requirement to being involved with the organization. Although the club started at Smith, its events and initiatives are useful to students of every discipline. “Everything we do is plainly for Black students who are interested in business, and business is really all-encompassing. Everything involves business to some extent or another,” Trotman said. “We really want to reach a network of students larger than just the Commerce program, whether it’s on our exec or our membership program.” The growth SBBA has had beyond Smith in under two years shows their commitment to making this expansion happen. In just over a year, the club has burst out of the Commerce bubble. The executive board has representation from Queen’s students in a wide array of programs. “The executive for this year is half Commerce, half non-Commerce, so a very good ratio,” Trotman said. Nandoh is one of the non-commence students serving on the SBBA executive. “Being a part of SBBA has positively improved my experience at Queen’s, because as a political science student, I was able to meet a lot of people studying diverse things such as business and health science,” Nandoh said. “I think that is very beneficial for me because I can learn a lot that I’m not necessarily learning in my program.” Ultimately, SBBA should not be defined by the words “Smith”, or “business.” Every Black student at Queen’s is encouraged to join the community. “The bottom line is it’s for Black students at Queen’s, whether you’re in the Commerce program or not,” Trotman said. “Meeting you is something that the entire club would love to see.”
Thursday, February 17, 2022
Editorials
EDITORIALS
queensjournal.ca
The Journal’s Perspective
Editors’ Note: Black History Month Issue
THE QUEEN’S JOURNAL Volume 149 Issue 21 www.queensjournal.ca @queensjournal Publishing since 1873
Editorial Board Editors in Chief
The Queen’s Journal Vol. 149 Issue 21 is our inaugural Black History Month Issue. First proposed in Vol. 148, we’re so grateful to have worked on this Issue starting in November of last year. Our goals for Issue 21 were to uplift Black student voices, celebrate achievements of Black student groups on-campus, and shed light on ongoing issues of anti-Black racism and discrimination at Queen’s and in Canadian universities as a whole. Last year, we said we would only move forward with a Black History Month issue if Black contributors could be compensated for their work. We’re happy to say we were able to provide nine students with commissions with the support of the Alma Mater Society.
We’re eternally grateful to the Black student contributors whose work is featured on these pages. Their enthusiasm, patience, and hard work have made this one of our strongest publications of the year. Every article, illustration, and photograph has been crafted with love and passion. We hope you enjoy immersing yourself in these works as much as we have. We’d also like to acknowledge this issue for what it is—a start. Like all EDI work at The Journal and on Queen’s campus, our efforts to make space for Black voices are ongoing. We feel immensely privileged to be a part of that work and we do not take it lightly. It’s work we hope to
continue in our last few months as Editors in Chief, and work we hope will be built upon in future volumes. Lastly, we’d like to thank Clanny Mugabe, our Editorials Illustrator, for all her efforts these last few months. Clanny—it’s been such a pleasure to watch you write and illustrate, and we’re honoured we get to see that happen every week. —Aysha Tabassum & Shelby Talbot Editors in Chief journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca
Aysha Tabassum Shelby Talbot
Production Manager
Violetta Zeitlinger Fontana
News Editor Assistant News Editors
Features Editors
Sydney Ko Asbah Ahmad Rida Chaudry Anne Fu Kirby Harris Julia Stratton
Editorials Editor Editorials Illustrator Opinions Editor
Anna Fouks Clanny Mugabe Cassidy McMackon
Arts Editor
Ben Wrixon
Assistant Arts Editor Sports Editor
Mackenzie Loveys Angus Merry
Assistant Sports Editor Lifestyle Editor
Natara Ng Alysha Mohamed
Assistant Lifestyle Editor Photo Editor
Madeleine McCormick Spencer Hendrickson
Assistant Photo Editor Video Editor
Curtis Heinzl Nathan Carter
Assistant Video Editor Copy Editors
Black History Month isn’t a token for performativity—it’s a call for change
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Leah Smithson Martin Hayes Suzy Leinster
Graphics Editor
Dharmayu Desai
Podcast Coordinator BIPOC Advisory Board Members
Lauren Thomas Alysha Ahmad Anya D’Souza Yvonne Tan
Contributing Staff Contributors
Temi Akintan
Ben Arhen Makaila Atsonglo Erica Johnson Emma Keyes Monique Lee-Vassell Kesha Tabitha
Staff Writers
Alexa Bartels
Business Staff Business Manager Sales Representatives Fundraising Representative Social Media Coordinator
Yoli Wang Medhavi Maurya Will Stewart Riya Shah Francesca Lim
Want to contribute? For information visit: www.queensjournal.ca/contribute or email the Editor in Chief at journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca Contributions from all members of the Queen’s and Kingston community are welcome. The Journal reserves the right to edit all submissions. The Queen’s Journal is an editorially autonomous newspaper published by the Alma Mater Society of Queen’s University, Kingston.
ILLUSTRATION BY CLANNY MUGABE
Black allyship shouldn’t be confined to just Black History Month (BHM)—consumers and corporations alike should be working year-round towards equity. It can be inspiring to see the whirlwind of content released every February in recognition of BHM. From YouTube’s specially designed logo and their #YouTubeBlack platform to Amazon Music’s “Black Culture Is…” initiative, companies put forth content meant to signal their Black allyship each year. Projects made in collaboration with Black folks should be celebrated. The creators behind these ideas have done an outstanding job commemorating the beauty of Black culture and the significance of Black history. Unfortunately, these wonderful reminders are often tokenized by the companies commissioning them. Expressing public support during BHM means little when hiring policies still reflect white supremacy and anti-Black racism. A 2021 paper from the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences identified two rationales behind colleges diversifying their campuses. The instrumental rationale argued minority perspectives yield educational benefits for all students. The moral rationale advocates combating
racial inequality because all people have right of access to quality education. Interestingly, studies have shown Black prospective students siding with the moral rationale, while most white students favoured the instrumental one. Many big brand companies are complicit in a similar pattern—they use equity policies for their own public perception instead of genuine support of marginalized groups. Performative allyship means using a good cause to better one’s own image. Being an ally shouldn’t be a thoughtless trend—it requires a genuine and continued commitment. Racism often walks hand in hand with capitalism. After all, if the end goal is to have maximum capital profit, a corporation has no place for accountability. “Fixing” the issue of the commodification of BHM is incredibly complex. A company can’t claim their support for the Black community if they continue marginalizing their own Black employees. Black labour is still widely exploited, either through assigning racialized employees lower-paying jobs or tokenizing Black voices in EDII efforts. Corporations must switch from simply avoiding the “racist” label to making significant, continued
development towards an accepting and safe atmosphere. Allyship shouldn’t just be slapping a slogan on one’s brand. Conscientious effort is needed to discuss and change company policies to reflect respectful and equal interactions with Black staff members and Black consumers. When it comes to allyship, the question isn’t “how will this benefit our corporation?”, but “how will this benefit everyone?”. It’s our responsibility as consumers, too. Thoughtlessly posting a black square on social media page isn’t effective—it’s a virtue signaling and doesn’t properly address the problem. We must be conscious of the meaning behind each symbol. We must make the effort to learn about and unlearn the harm so ingrained in our society. Understanding the significance and effect of marginalization will help to call out harmful and inappropriate behaviour from authoritative powers not for performance’s sake, but because supporting one another is the right thing to do. Black History Month isn’t only a celebration—it’s a call to action. It’s about time society understands that. —Journal Editorial Board
Situated on the traditional lands of the Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee peoples. The Journal’s Editorial Board acknowledges the traditional territories our newspaper is situated on have allowed us to pursue our mandate. We recognize our responsibility to understand the truth of our history. Editorial opinions expressed in The Journal are the sole responsibility of The Queen’s Journal Editorial Board, and are not necessarily those of the University, the AMS or their officers. 190 University Ave., Kingston, ON, K7L 3P4 Editorial Office: 613-533-2800 Business Office: 613-533-6711 Fax: 613-533-6728 Email: journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca Please address complaints and grievances to the Editor in Chief and/or Managing Editor. The Queen’s Journal is printed on a Goss Community press by by Metroland Media in Toronto, Ontario. Contents © 2021 by The Queen’s Journal; all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without prior permission of The Journal.
Opinions
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OPINIONS
Thursday, February 17, 2022
Your Perspective
SUPPLIED BY MAKAILA ATSONGLO
Makaila belives Canada should celebrate Black History Month more
Black History Month isn’t just education—it’s celebration Everything I learned about BHM growing up was rooted in trauma, and never aimed to go deeper Makaila Atsonglo Contributor I’ve always felt participating in Black History Month is two-step process, the first step being education and the second being celebration. The celebration part came to me a bit easier. My family embraced their Blackness and their culture, not only during the month of February, but all year-round. The education component has always been more challenging. My perception of what it meant to be Black came from those closest to me. My mother is an Afro-Caribbean from Guyana, and my father is Ghanaian. They immigrated to Canada as young adults who’d been shaped by their experiences in their home countries. These characteristics encompass completely different lived experiences than the one I’ve embodied as a Black Canadian.
The constant polite "quieting when speaking
about race, the knowing that something doesn’t feel right but never being given the space to figure out what was wrong I now realize the place I was born had a lot to do with how I
learned about the Black people and Black history. Canada has the reputation of being a kind, racially tolerant country. I now realize Canada’s illusion of tolerance was upheld through the country’s inability to have conversations about race. The first instance where race was brought up in school was with another classmate in the first or second grade. I can’t remember how the conversation started, but I’d proudly declared that I was Black. The white boy I was speaking to came up to me shocked, shushed me, and said, “You’re not allowed to say Black. You’re supposed to say African American.” Suddenly, “Black” became a bad word. It became unspeakable. I was confused. How was I suddenly ascribed an identity that wasn’t mine? How was I meant to be African American if I was Canadian? The boy replied, “You just are.” This was a recurring theme in my life while growing up Black in Canada. The constant polite quieting when speaking about race, the knowing that something doesn’t feel right but never being given the space to figure out what was wrong. I grew up as the only Black girl of the three Black kids in my grade at my elementary school. Most of the time kids forget about their differences and everyone would be the same on the playground. Until February rolls around. During Black History Month, we learned that enslaved people fled from the United States to Canada in hopes of freedom. Between lessons, I got the pitiful stares, the awkward silence, and the misdirected apologies. Canada was painted as the hero and victor during the time of slavery—but we were never taught that Canadians
owned slaves themselves. Those same Black people who settled in Canada after fleeing the United States faced racial i n e q u a l i t y, h o s t i l i t y, and discrimination. As I looked around the classroom during classes focused on BHM, I realized everyone was thinking the same thing. In a different time and place, they couldn’t be friends with me, and they couldn’t be seen with me. Instead of celebrating Black History, I felt isolated by it. I remember the rhetoric clearly. Rosa said “No,” Martin had a dream, and Ruby was the first.
If it wasn’t for the "internet and social
media, a lot of the nuances of Black history would still be a mystery to me. I would’ve never known about Canada's role in racial injustices against Black people It was all we needed to know, and my Catholic elementary school never dared to educate further. In fact, it was almost as if they expected their Black students to pick up that slack for them. During Black History Month in seventh grade, myself and the other two Black boys in my grade all coincidentally ended up sitting together in the seating plan for the month. The teacher had three pamphlets—one of Rosa Parks, one of MLK Jr, and one of Malcom X. He declared that he was going to divide the class up into three groups to discuss each influential figure. He then proceeded to split each Black kid up so there was one in each group. Was this on purpose?
Who knows. But I felt targeted. I felt the burden of trying to “educate” my non-Black group members with the limited knowledge of Black History provided to me. I had to sit at a table and tell a group of people why a woman who looked like me couldn’t sit at the front of the bus. Everything we learned had been rooted in trauma, but never aimed to go deeper. There were no stories of Black inventors, Black musicians, or Black Canadians who persevered. I had to research these influential figures myself. If it wasn’t for the internet and social media, a lot of the nuances of Black history would still be a mystery to me. I would’ve never known about Canada's role in racial injustices against Black people. I wouldn’t know about Africville, or the realities of the Jim Crow era, or how Black Canadians are still being unfairly treated in this country.
I began creating my "own opportunities to
acknowledge Blackness and Black history, whether it be sending TikToks of Black creators to my non-Black friends, bringing it up in day-to-day conversation, writing a creative piece about it, or placing it in my essays It wasn’t until my late teens that I found out about redlining, mass incarceration, systemic racism, sundown towns, and the way that Black Canadians were treated while fighting during the World Wars. All of what I learned was either in
an article from Google or an Instagram post. Without my own self-guided research, I would’ve never truly understood what exactly we are celebrating this month. Black History Month is more than recognizing trauma—it’s celebrating Black success in all shapes and forms. It’s celebrating Black music, Black movies, Black inventions, Black homeowners, Black Canadians, Black judges, Black authors, Black lawyers, Black everyone and everything. It’s about reclamation and pride. With time, I was able to dispel the blanket that Canada used to cover the conversation about race. I began creating my own opportunities to acknowledge Blackness and Black history, whether it be sending TikToks of Black creators to my non-Black friends, bringing it up in day-to-day conversation, writing a creative piece about it, or placing it in my essays. I now question rhetoric surrounding race and use Black feminist theory to influence my perception of media. The celebration of Black History, Black culture, and Black people is rooted in being educated about the injustices Black people have gone through. Because I provided myself with the space that wasn’t given to me to learn about Black history for myself in an unbiased and objective way, I’m able to fully commemorate the Black people who came before me and acknowledge my own history as a Black Canadian. Makaila is a fourth-year English student. To contribute an opinion, email journal_letters@ams.queensu.ca
Arts
Thursday, February 17, 2022
ARTS
queensjournal.ca
Emma Keyes Contributor
Achebe’s legend lives on through his writing.
PHOTO ILLUSTRATION BY SHELBY TALBOT
Remembering Chinua Achebe through ‘Dead Men’s Path’ The story is a reminder to accept and embrace cultural differences
Chinua Achebe was an exemplary Black writer best known for his 1958 novel Things Fall Apart. His short story “Dead Men’s Path” shouldn’t be missed. Born in Nigeria when the country was still a colonial territory of the British Empire, Achebe’s experiences emphasized the need to make space for African voices speaking to African stories. As a student, Achebe often read literary accounts of Africa written by Europeans, many of which he found appalling. He stood firm in his beliefs that the story Africans had to tell could not be told by anyone else, no matter how gifted or well-intentioned. In “Dead Men’s Path,” Achebe tells the story of Michael Obi, the freshly appointed headmaster of a school in the Ndume community. His job in the story is to “eradicate” beliefs held by the Ndume children by belittling and ridiculing their ancestors’ teaching. Achebe’s ability to portray the differences between European and African values during post-colonial times is apparent early on in the story. Michael Obi is simply “amazed” at a footpath that runs through the school grounds, connecting the village’s shrine and burial path. For the villagers, the path has symbolic meaning—the dead use it to depart, ancestors use it to visit, and it also represents children yet to be born. To Michael Obi, the path
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is meaningless. He doesn’t understand nor care to learn about its significance to the villagers of Ndume. He goes so far as to close the path’s entryway, ignoring multiple warnings of misfortune from the villagers. Two days after the closing off the sacred path, Obi wakes up to find the village’s normally beautiful allamanda and hibiscus hedges trampled and torn apart. A young woman in the community has also passed away during childbirth. Obi’s white supervisor, a Government Education Officer, happens to be inspecting on this day, and consequently leaves a nasty report about his school. He condemns the so-called “tribal-war situation” developing between the school and the village, blaming Obi for the situation. “Dead Men’s Path,” more than anything else, helps readers understand the importance of cultural diversity. Being willing to learn about other cultures—which make our world so wonderfully diverse—helps dismantle personal stereotypes and biases within different groups. Chinua Achebe is one of the many outstanding Black writers that society should celebrate and commemorate. His work is an always necessary reminder that learning about other cultures helps us understand how we are alike, but also helps us recognize that, when another culture is unlike our own, respect and compassion can still bring us together.
‘History is Rarely Black or White’ deconstructs the cotton industry Agnes exhibition is a poignant exploration of slave labour through garments Ben Wrixon Senior Arts Editor History is Rarely Black or White is an exhibition at the Agnes Etherington Art Centre deconstructing the cotton industry’s harmful colonial legacy through garments. The exhibits and accompanying writings explore how the cotton industry widened global income disparities and commercialized the oppression of marginalized communities, specifically groups forcibly brought to North America through the slave trade. In an interview with The Journal, curator Jason Cyrus shared the inspiration behind this poignant exhibition and the conversations he hopes it incites. “So many things are siloed in research,” Cyrus said. “So often you’ll study the history of fabrics, then you’ll look at how that connects to trade and different cultures. “So rarely do [all these elements] intersect, even though you can’t have one without the other.” The exhibition mainly studies cotton garments from the Queen’s Collection of Canadian Dress by connecting their materials
to resource extraction and slave labour. The online version of History is Rarely Black or White is separated into three main subsections: “Cotton and the Canadian Consumer,” “Who Harvested Cotton in the American South?,” and “Connecting the Cotton Trade to Life in Canada.” Through select clothing from the 1800s, “Cotton and the Canadian Consumer” explores how cotton being a commodity in Canada perpetuated slave labour. Most of the cotton imported until the American Civil War of 1861-65 was produced by slave labour despite England’s abolishment of slavery in 1833. Artist Karin Jones explores this harsh reality through her site-specific installation, Freed. “Who Harvested Cotton in the American South?” reveals how seriously the cotton trade relied on Indigenous erasure from fertile land and the enslavement of African people.
the cotton industry “ It’s in the 1800s that ties
this to a wider system where it becomes in a sense, sadly, a part of life going forward.
In this section, multi-disciplinary artist Damien Jöel tells an eye-opening fashion story of how the Gullah/Geechie
SUPPLIED BY AGNES
Freed, by Karin Jones.
preserved their heritage through their garments. Black Canadian life in both the past and the present is examined in the “Connecting the Cotton Trade to Life in Canada” subsection. This part of the exhibition explores how formerly enslaved Africans in Ontario used clothing and photography to rewrite their narratives. The associated artwork by Gordan Shadrach illustrates Black men in historic and contemporary dress. These sections share a common thread—the cotton industry’s irreversible impacts on those enslaved into colonialism and their descendants. “It’s the cotton industry in the
1800s that ties this to a wider system where it becomes in a sense, sadly, a part of life going forward,” Cyrus explained. “When you start, especially as a child, working [as a slave], you never are able to get an education, never able to advance yourself economically—it systematizes poverty.” Cyrus hopes History is Rarely Black or White challenges viewers to think about the historical context underlying many of today’s prominent societal issues. He believes no experiences exist in a vacuum independent from what has proceeded them. “People love to use the hashtag ‘BlackLivesMatter,’ but what does
that really mean? When a lot of folks are coming forward with their experiences, [we should ask] what historic precedent creates [this situation]. Why is it some people have a different experience of the world than others?” Look no further than Kingston and its history of incarceration. “You’ve got the penitentiaries and a lot of folks in the Kingston population who are living there to be closer to their [incarcerated] loved ones. You cannot have these beautiful cotton garments from Kingston, from the Agnes by Kingstonians, without looking at this long history.”
Arts
8 • queensjournal.ca
Thursday, February 17, 2022
‘Superhuman’ promotes empathy Nicola Yoon’s short story challenges stereotypes and prejudice Alexa Bartels Contributor “Superhuman” is a short story featured in the anthology Fresh Ink and written by Jamaican-American writer Nicola Yoon. The work explores intersectionality, prejudice, and humanity. Yoon is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Instructions for Dancing, Everything, Everything, and The Sun Is Also a Star. Published in 2018, Fresh Ink features work by some of the most accomplished authors on the young adult fiction scene. It’s an inclusive and diverse collection that includes ten short stories, a one act play, and a graphic novel. Thematically, the stories in Fresh Ink confront social issues like gentrification, poverty, and racism across several genres. There are stories that fall under contemporary realistic fiction, adventure, and romance, to name a few. Yoon’s “Superhuman” is the can’t-miss story in this anthology. It follows the story of X, a super-hero gone rogue, and average teen Syrita, who was selected by the president of the United States to talk X out of his quest to destroy humanity. Yoon, the first woman of colour to reach #1 on the New York Times Young Adult bestseller list, provides muchneeded social commentary while telling a compelling narrative. Through “Superhuman,” she challenges
the real-life discrimination present in the media, government, and broader society. Her story blends elements of realism and dystopia to shame the unjustified prejudices aimed at Black folks, including false stereotypes surrounding race and crime. The characters of X and Syrita are where the story truly shines. It’s bittersweet, as they’re mirror images of each other. Where Syrita embodies strength and faith, X’s identity as a human truly shines. Readers are shown how racism and hatred robbed a man capable of saving lives of his empathy for others. Yoon exemplifies how compassion is brought to life by understanding and sympathizing with the experiences of others. Syrita and X’s story recognizes the ways in which we’re not separated by race, but rather united as humans. Syrita emphasizes with X as he’s challenged by systemic and everyday racism, but also reminds him of people’s capacity for mercy, healing, finding unconditional love, and most importantly, sympathizing with those affected by marginalization. The messages in Yoon’s story are relevant not only to Black History Month but to the every day—society needs more empathy all year-round. Humanity is a strength to all. Our greatest ability is to understand that we’re deserving of grace and understanding. Collectively, we can build stronger communities by caring about the experiences of others as they were our own. Although “Superhuman” is directed towards a young adult audience, it’s an accessible and poignant read for anyone who loves literature and social justice.
Writing event focuses on Black identity in fiction and reality.
KFPL celebrates Black History Month Library calling for written submissions highlighting Black perspectives
Mackenzie Loveys Assisstant Arts Editor Kingston Frontenac Public Library (KFPL) has partnered with Limestone District School Board to showcase local Black writers in an event called ‘Celebrating Black Creators: Readings of Poetry and Prose.’ From Feb. 1 to Feb. 27, community members can submit poetry or short stories related to diverse Black experiences and perspectives. “This [event] is a chance for people to show their creative spark,” Jake Miller, KFPL’s adult services librarian, said in an interview with The Journal. “It allows them to do it where their work can be seen.” A live event will be held on Feb. 28 where writers who have submitted pieces or simply enjoy writing can share their work with like-minded members of the public.
Black Creators’ “was‘Celebrating inspired by a conversation
Miller had with a representative of Kingston’s Black Luck Collective, who recommended creating a format for expressing the Black experience in Kingston, which could be done through short stories or poetry
Don’t miss this anthology’s stand-out story.
SUPPLIED BY ALEXA BARTELS
SUPPLIED BY KFPL
“It gives a live platform for those who want to read to someone other than themselves in a mirror,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just a bit of a social event to make that connection.” KFPL will display submission on their website after Feb. 28, regardless of whether the writer attended the live reading. “[Either way], their work will be seen,” Miller said. “It will be cherished. It will be celebrated.” “That’s what the community needs—more opportunity in general for
direct engagement with the library and to see themselves.” ‘Celebrating Black Creators’ was inspired by a conversation Miller had with a representative of Kingston’s Black Luck Collective, who recommended creating a format for expressing the Black experience in Kingston through short stories or poetry. Miller also noted KFPL’s many other opportunities for involvement, like partnerships, programs, and workshops. Specifically, he recommended a workshop run by Britta B, a Kingstonborn spoken word performer, writer, and poet, being held on Feb. 22 and 23, as something that may interest those submitting pieces to ‘Celebrating Black Creators.’
Public input is essential to “sustaining these productive
and collaborative relationships with Black communities and other communities that were traditionally underserved KFPL hopes to integrate more diverse perspectives into the online and print resources used in both their adult and children’s programming. “Public input is essential to sustaining these productive and collaborative relationships with Black communities and other communities that were traditionally under served,” Miller said. “[We want to establish] that ongoing dialogue, to ensure their direct input is reflected in our programming and in our collections.” Above all else, Miller believes sharing diverse perspectives and stories is necessary during every month of the year—not just February. “Giving a platform for only one month does not do nearly enough justice.”
Sports
Thursday, February 17, 2022
SPORTS
Conversations and initiatives to support Black athletes are happening in all spheres of university sport Natara Ng Assistant Sports Editor
From live U Sports events to initiatives taking place on Queen’s campus, important conversations and projects are underway within university athletics programs for Black History Month. U Sports is holding its second annual live U Sports Conversations event on Feb. 22, hosted by NBA TV Canada host and former X-University Rams basketball player Savanna Hamilton. During the event—which will be live on Twitter—Hamilton will host Black panelists from across U Sports who have ties to different programs and schools. The conversations will provide an opportunity for U Sports to celebrate success stories from the Black community, highlight advocacy work being
queensjournal.ca
From U SPORTS to Queen’s: How Black History Month is being celebrated in university sport
accomplished within U Sports, and examine issues and barriers faced by Black athletes. Meanwhile, on Queen’s campus, Athletics and Recreation (A&R) is participating in Black History Month by sharing resources and activities on their online calendar. In a statement to The Journal, A&R described their involvement in celebrating Black History Month. “Black History Month is a time to recognize and celebrate the countless contributions made to our programs and larger campus community by Black students, faculty, and staff,” A&R wrote. “It is also an opportunity [to] reflection and learning to gain a deeper understanding of the cultural and systemic barriers facing our Black community members, and commit to continuing work to dismantle them, as we strive to foster a safe
and welcome environment where we are all Gaels.” The Journal also sat down with Queen’s Football offensive lineman Daekwon Blair, ArtSci ’23, to discuss his thoughts on and involvement in Queen’s Athletics’ Black History Month initiatives. Blair sits on the Queen’s Athletics and Recreation EDII Task Force, where he’s currently involved in creating a studentathlete network for students of colour. This includes a speaker series as well as a mentorship program that pairs athletes with alumni based on their professional interests. Speaking about Black History Month at Queen’s, Blair hopes it can be a time to spark meaningful conversations within both the athletic community and greater Queen’s communities. He also believes it’s an opportunity for these communities to gain a better
understanding of the different lived experiences of athletes of colour at Queen’s. “To just have conversations that are fruitful, that are difficult at times, that are engaging, sometimes hurtful, sometimes passionate. There’s such a range of emotion with these types of conversations,” Blair said. “I think this month—really every month, but this month in particular—can be a really good starting point to have these conversations and keep this going.” One event Blair and the EDII Task Force are hoping to run this month is a multi-day barbershop. According to Blair, the idea arose from conversations surrounding how getting a hair cut—something that’s an otherwise simple task for some —is often difficult to access for Black student-athletes. “You go through a training camp
Former Queen’s football player Ben Arhen comments on Black representation in scientific spaces Ben Arhen Contributor This article contains mentions of racial trauma and slavery, and may be triggering to readers. The Canadian Mental Health Association Crisis Line can be reached at 1-800-875-6213. Contemporary western science lacks Black contribution. Improving Black representation in scientific fields requires a conscious effort to reject longstanding paradigms of white intellectual superiority. The lack of Black voices in western science can be attributed to systems of racial inequality established during slavery and the implications of “scientific racism” pioneered by white scientists during the 18th and 19th centuries. The institution of slavery began in the early 1600s, when African individuals were unwillingly captured, transported, and sold as property in North America and the West Indies. By and large, the philosophy of enslavement was justified by the belief that white people were at the top of the racial hierarchy and therefore a “superior” race. This paradigm of Black
Arhen advocates for more emphasis on the discoveries of Black scientists.
PHOTO BY SPENCER HENDRICKSON
How do we move beyond the flawed paradigm of white intellectual superiority? inferiority was eventually falsely legitimized—and publicized— in pseudoscientific research known as “scientific racism,” which used false observations to confirm preconceived racialized ideas. From Carolus Linnaeus—a Swedish taxonomist—who described the African race as cunning, phlegmatic, and ruled by impulse, to Samuel G. Morton, an American physician who argued that Black individuals had smaller brain sizes relative to white individuals, scientifically racist ideas implicitly stated
the need for Black people to be controlled because of their falsely reported impulsivity, laziness, and inferior intellect. Scientific racism fundamentally questioned the intellectual capabilities of Black individuals, and the absence of Black contribution in scientific spaces today speaks to the legacy of those previously held beliefs in academia. It’s thus important to recognize Black scientists who’ve influenced the progress of modern-day western science. George Washington Carver
(1864-1943), was born into slavery and repeatedly faced racial discrimination throughout his life as a scientist and inventor. Nevertheless, Carver greatly contributed to the agricultural revolution by discovering innovative techniques to prevent soil depletion from excessive cotton growth and is widely considered one of the most influential black scientists of the 20th century. Dr. Daniel Hale Williams (1856-1931), was the first African American to ever receive a medical degree. An advocate
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and then at the start of your season, you want to get your haircut. Or you want to get your hair braided before a big championship game,” Blair explained. “But it’s hard to do that. There’s not many people doing that on campus or close to campus.” The event would bring barbers and hairstylists into Kingston, where they could have a reserved space to do their work. It would open for students of colour on the opening day and then open to the wider community in the days following. “This is something we’d like to see flourish in the future […] Offering a space to get your haircut or your hair braided and try to bridge some of those accessibility gaps.” Blair emphasized the support and resources he has received from A&R to push the idea of this initiative into practice. “Together we’ve really done a lot of work to get this thing off the ground. The support that we’ve gotten from individuals within Athletics and Recreation has been huge,” Blair said. “I’m a big believer in community and conversation, and I think that’s the best way to, one, bridge any gap, but two, create something that can be scaled and that lasts.”
for lack civil rights, Williams was also the first doctor to found a hospital with an interracial staff, ultimately providing countless opportunities for Black healthcare workers where few had existed before. Lewis Latimer, (18481928) was a prominent American draftsman and inventor who worked alongside Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas Edison to design and patent the telephone and the lightbulb. Latimer’s scientific contributions resulted in groundbreaking technological advancements in their time and set an example for aspiring Black inventors. Acknowledging the contributions of Carver, Williams, and Latimer along with a growing list of highly successful 20th and 21st century scientists and intellectuals—including 16 Nobel Prize recipients—is an important step toward debunking the myth of white intellectual superiority. As Frederick Douglass, a 19th century abolitionist and former slave once said, “The negro is a man […] scientific writers, not less than others, write to please, and even unconsciously themselves, to sacrifice what is true to what is popular […] what is fashionable now in our land is to exaggerate the differences between the negro and the European”. Still relevant more than 100 years later, this quote serves as a challenge to modern science to overturn the normalcy of white superiority, accept and celebrate Black contributions in science, and push towards an equitable future.
Lifestyle
10 • queensjournal.ca
Thursday, February 17, 2022
Confessions of a Black girl: Abandoning stereotypes and redefining my identity My Blackness isn’t defined by the clothes I wear, the music I listen to, or the cultural references I understand Erica Johnson Contributor I would describe the first few decades of my life as a 21 year-long identity crisis. Most of my childhood was spent in predominantly white spaces. I grew accustomed to being one of the few—if not the only—person of colour in my classes. Even outside of classrooms, a lot of the spaces I found myself in were predominantly white. Existing in these spaces where there was no one who looked like me, or had any of my shared experience severely affected my self-perception.
For a lot of my childhood, I was deterred from engaging in activities that were stereotypically Black. My parents didn’t want us to “act Black” because they feared how people would perceive us. For them, the best way to “avoid” racism was to assimilate into our white community and act white.
wear the right clothes, I didn’t use the right slang, and I didn’t listen to the right music. I felt unwanted by both communities.
This led to a "long period of
self-hatred, embarrassment, and a desperation to fit in that followed me all the way to university. I frequently allowed, and often excused, various microaggressions because I wanted people to like me
LIFEST
YLE
This led to a long period of self-hatred, embarrassment, and a desperation to fit in that followed me all the way to university. I frequently allowed, and often excused, various microaggressions because I wanted people
immigrants
said I wouldn’t " [They] know who a certain rapper was because I was too whitewashed, and I was ultimately excluded from the discussion
They wanted us to fit in and succeed, and the best way for us to do this was to align ourselves as close to whiteness as possible—or so they thought.
Throughout this time, I maintained a desire to immerse myself in Black culture and embrace my Black identity. However, whenever I tried to do so, I was accused of being too loud, acting rachet, or “doing too much” by my white peers. But when they would do the same thing, they were seen as cool and cultured. I now realise I was allowing other people to define my Blackness and my Black identity.
My Blackness isn’t " defined by the clothes I
wear, the music I listen to, or what cultural references I understand. It’s defined simply by the fact that I am Black, and I was born Black I recall a conversation with a group of my Black friends in the 10th grade. We were discussing music and they said I wouldn’t know who a certain rapper was because I was too whitewashed, and I was ultimately excluded from the discussion. This experience profoundly affected me. I carried it with me throughout my adolescence and into early adulthood.
white friends "whoI had [...] said they were
'Blacker' than I was because they knew more Drake songs than I did It felt like I wasn’t Black enough for Black people, but I obviously wasn’t white enough to fit in amongst my white friends. I didn’t
I never forgot I was Black—I simply tried to hide and supress that part of myself. It took a long time for me to rediscover and embrace my Blackness. I’ve decided to stop allowing people to police my identity—and it’s liberating. I’m no longer afraid or embarrassed to showcase parts of my Blackness or my African heritage. I openly and proudly listen to my favourite African songs. I’ve also recently discovered my passion for R&B music.
slowly learning "toI’mcelebrate all parts
of myself, my African culture and heritage, and my Black identity
the daughter " I’mof two African Like many other children of colour growing up in white spaces, I was constantly being teased by my peers. From my “ethnic” lunches to my household habits and even my ever-changing hairstyles, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I’m the daughter of two African immigrants. My parents moved to Canada from Sierra Leone to give my sister and I access to opportunities they never had, and I'm extremely grateful for their sacrifice. My parents wanted nothing but the best for my sister and I.
who frequently said they were “Blacker” than I was because they knew more Drake songs than I did, or because they understood or participated in activities that are typically associated with Black culture.
to like me. I didn’t embrace my culture. I wore clothes that didn't align with my personal style. I listened to music I didn’t particularly enjoy and shrunk parts of myself to be more palatable to those around me. I internalized white beauty standards, intellectual values, and cultural sensibilities because I felt rejected by my own community, and was so desperate for someplace to fit in. But once again, I felt like I was constantly being scrutinized. I had white friends
I was labelled as whitewashed because I didn’t fit into their perceptions and standards of how Black women should be. No matter what I endured,
I share parts of my culture with those around me. I refuse to let people get away with microaggressions because I no longer feel the need to be accepted by people who don’t respect me. My Blackness isn’t defined by the clothes I wear, the music I listen to, or what cultural references I understand. It’s defined simply by the fact that I am Black, and I was born Black. And the ways in which I choose to appear in the world and express myself doesn’t detract from this fact. Just because I might not fit into someone’s stereotypical perception of how a Black person should be doesn‘t take away from who I am. I’m slowly learning to celebrate all parts of myself, my African culture and heritage, and my Black identity and all that comes with it. For me, rediscovering and redefining by Blackness has been the start of my journey to finally accepting myself. I have a lot of things to learn and unlearn, and although I still have a long way to go, I’m excited to one day be in a place where I’m unapologetically myself.
Lifestyle
Thursday, February 17, 2022
queensjournal.ca
bell hook's holds a specia
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PHOTOS BY MONIQUE LEE -VASSEL
l place for Monique.
I stand firm in my voice and deliver bell hooks translates the vibrancy and tradition that is Blackness, making it accessible to the entire world Monique Lee-Vassel Contributor bell hooks made sense of the paradox of my life. Where loneliness often left a void, loving myself in solitude made me whole. Born on Sept. 25, 1952, Gloria Jean Watkins changed the world of literature as a trailblazing Black female writer, professor, and activist. She adopted her pen name, bell hooks, from her maternal great-grandmother of the same name.
legacy highlights " hooks' topics that permeate each of our lives, yet are rarely openly discussed
Her deliberate use of lowercase letters differentiates her from her great-grandmother while setting her apart from any and all conventions of the literary landscape. She was radical. Radical in her teachings about
race and gender and the existence of Black women as a perennial force. Radical in bringing forth discussions of decolonization, masculinity, and life amid a culture of complete domination. hooks' legacy highlights topics that permeate each of our lives, yet are rarely openly discussed.
as one of the " Existing few Black female writers in the Kingston community contributes to my outsider status
In reading her works, we're called to look upon disparate forms of knowing in one mutual space, all in the name of love. Around the time of the beloved author’s passing, I fell into a plethora of bell hooks quotes, life lessons, anecdotes, and necessary sentiments.
"
We take on the role of translating the vast avenue of vibrancy and tradition that is Blackness, making it accessible to the entire world
She validated my struggles in mastering the practice of solitude. At one point, her voice was my only motivator, another consciousness that understood loneliness as a necessary tool. More than ever before, she made me strong in my solitude. She made it easier for me to break up with the world I once knew.
Existing as one of the few Black female writers in the Kingston community contributes to my outsider status.
[W]e are expected, as "people of colour, to stand firm in our voices and deliver
We take on the role of translating the vast avenue of vibrancy and tradition that is Blackness, making it accessible to the entire world. We have the additional task of transmuting the multitude of microaggressions, illuminating the legacies of stolen land and unpaid labour, commemorating all our brothers and sisters that succumbed to the hardships of life in the margins. What a feat! Though we are expected, as people of colour, to stand firm in our voices and deliver. Albeit the difficulty of this task, deliver, hooks did. Her message, widespread as it is, has permeated the Queen’s community.
"
Yet her teachings remain and help us all in a time when divisive rhetoric seems louder than the beat of our own hearts When asked about their first encounter with hooks and her writing, many of my fellow peers came across the name as early as high school, “when learning about black academia
and some of its trailblazers” (Alex Gittens, ArtSci ’22). Another engaged with her work more deeply in gender studies courses (Harry Wright, Con-Ed ’22), and one discovered hooks by simply reading her scathing critique of Beyoncé’s Lemonade (Fiona Meeson, ArtSci ’22).
hooks’ writing was " transformative in
Meeson’s understanding of intersectional and radical feminism Yet her teachings remain, and help us all in a time when divisive rhetoric seems louder than the beat of our own hearts. For Wright, hooks’ work on education has impacted them greatly. “I have never read a work that focused so much on love and mutual, reciprocal relationship building than bell hooks. She emphasizes the importance of patience and simply listening when it comes to coming together across difference,” Wright told me. In the same vein, hooks’ writing was transformative in Meeson’s understanding of intersectional and radical feminism.
hooks created a " platform with enough room for each of us to stand on and belt
“I didn’t grasp how crucial these theories are to women’s liberation until I read Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center,” Meeson
explained. “hooks wrote about how achieving sexual and racial emancipation within our capitalist society is neither possible nor desirable.” For Temi Akintan (ArtSci’22), reading All About Love provided her with a new understanding of love as both “an intention and an action.” hooks’ writing disproves the common perception that romantic love is the most significant of all loves, emphasizing the interconnection of love in our personal and professional lives. My Black, Indigenous, and marginalized brothers and sisters in this community are woven together by the simple fact that we must all be aware of what our fellow marginalized visionaries are teaching us. hooks created a platform with enough room for each of us to stand on and belt.
hooks continues to "unite individuals from
far-off lands by doing what we as humans do best: loving Gittens wrote: “hooks made me feel confident about being black in majority white settings. She made me understand there is nothing wrong with being black, rather, it can be an advantage in certain academic settings!” hooks continues to unite individuals from far-off lands by doing what we as humans do best: loving.
Lifestyle
12 • queensjournal.ca
Thursday, February 17, 2022
POSTSCRIPT
ILLUSTRATION BY CLANNY MUGABE
Clanny's relationship with being Black is a work in progress.
Starting to fall in love with my Blackness Finding a group of fellow Black people was only the start of my self-acceptance Clanny Mugabe Editorials Illustrator Racism is inescapable. Even in parts of the world where people of colour are the majority, the effects of colonialism linger. Growing up, Fair and Lovely had billboards over the roads that lead to my school, hair-straightening products sat comfortably on the shelves at the hair salon, and the media carried white Western ideals to our TV’s. I grew up in many different places. I was born in Canada and spent my formative years here, but then, when I was seven my mom got a new job which took us to Kinshasa, the capital of DRC. Then Kampala, the capital of Uganda. Then finally Nairobi, Kenya. Between moving to those countries, we’d spend our summer and winter breaks with our extended family in Burundi—I didn't properly experience what being a “minority” felt like until I was fifteen, when we moved back to Canada permanently.
My culture was never "acknowledged unless it
was for the purposes of reducing us to a laugh or an insult
Despite technically growing up as a part of the majority, I still fought the urge to lighten my skin and battled with my hair for most of my life.
I didn’t speak Swahili or Kirundi like everyone around me, so even among people who looked like me and talked like my parents, I was relegated to the Western, white influenced corners of urban African life. Because I didn't have access to anything else, I absorbed the messaging that came with it.
grateful for [...] the " I'm way they challenged the most toxic parts of my personality and my internalised racism
It didn’t help that sometimes teachers would single me out for my Blackness, or that kids would call me “medusa” for my snake-like braids. Eventually, all these outward messages turned inwards, and I became my own worst critic for things I had no control over. It's hard to look back and see the amount of insecurity I had for daring to be unattractive. Before blaccents, cornrows, and afro-beats were mainstream, I went to a French school that punished you for speaking anything but perfect French. I watched white kids turn the way my family and I spoke into a joke. My culture was never acknowledged unless it was for the purposes of reducing us to a laugh or an insult. Before we moved back to Africa, my parents made sure I could assimilate into “Canadian culture” in the best way I could. They saw the way my cousins were ridiculed for their accents. My parents had first-hand experience with the racism and xenophobia that came from entering Canada and corporate spaces. To be successful in any institution with a colonial foundation,
even in Canada, you have to cut away pieces of yourself to fit the mold. So I tried. I flattened my hair. I wanted to cut off pieces of my body, to cut through layers of brown skin to find something pure and white underneath. When I was twelve, I made the drastic transition from one of the worst middle schools imaginable to a much more welcoming and kinder environment. The shift was so jarring I couldn’t believe it was real. I remember sitting in my first science class, looking around at the new students and the bright lights, amazed at how easy it felt to breathe in this place. This was the school where I made some of my closest friends, friends I remain close to. We were all incredibly different people, but that's what made it work. One of the things I'm grateful for is the way they challenged the most toxic parts of my personality and my internalised racism. I grew close to this group of people whose parents also immigrated to North America, who spent more time in airplanes than on the ground, and more time between borders than among a community.
I don’t need " Sometimes, to know the language to participate in or appreciate what’s in front of me
When I rejected Black culture, they pushed back. They're the ones that made me question the worldview I adopted for my own self-preservation. Even though we had different interests and hobbies, we still found common ground in expanding each other's
worldviews. We were an unofficial book club, we tried to learn a new language together, we joined new clubs together. And we found similarities in our life experiences. In different ways we struggled with our identities. What I learned from them was this struggle was okay. My struggle with my culture and understanding my family was fine. In the end, I found comfort in just being Black. I started to accept the contradictions I felt on the inside and embraced the solidarity other Black people offered me. Finding a group of fellow Black people was only the start of my journey of self-acceptance.
have a level " I’llofalways distance from my culture
For the first time in my life—the very first time—I didn't feel ugly. How could I be, when the best, brightest, most brilliant people I knew looked like me and had families like mine? And when I talked about my feelings, my friends understood. My relationship to my Blackness and the cultures my family comes from has been, and always will be, complicated. Unlearning internalised racism is a lifelong process, and unlearning internalized xenophobia is just as complicated. This process is especially difficult now that I find myself back in Canada trying to find a place to fit in, where what makes me different just makes me feel more exposed. But half this journey happened when I was just learning more about where I’m from and who my parents are. My mom and I talk a lot more these days. I find myself asking more questions when
I encounter something I don't understand. I learned about my grandparents and the things they did to contribute to anti-colonial liberation efforts. When I went to my cousin’s wedding I started paying attention—instead of letting myself fall to the background because I was ashamed for not knowing enough Kirundi to participate. Sometimes, I don’t need to know the language to participate in or appreciate what’s in front of me. I’ll always have a level of distance from my culture. I won’t grow up like my mom or dad or any of my cousins. I used to resent going back to where my parents grew up because I felt so distant.
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When I listen to the drums, I can feel the love that comes with it. I willingly closed my eyes and shut out the bright colours of Rwanda’s nature. I plugged music into my ears and ignored the Burundian drummers who were performing in front of me. I didn’t feel like it belonged to me. Now when I visit Burundi, and I go to an event and hear the Burundian drummers pound their instruments so hard it changes the pace of my heartbeat, none of my lingering resentments matter. When I listen to the drums, I can feel the love that comes with it. The love of my friends who taught me to appreciate myself. The love of my family who only wanted me to succeed in an oppressive world. The love of a global diaspora that’s fighting to thrive. No matter what, that love will stay with me.