I often joke that, though my appearance hasn?t changed, I?ve never been more black. When I look at my Facebook feed, I?m interacting and engaging with people of colour like never before. I?m reading new publications and websites geared to black women and the community. There?s an overarching tone to who I am now, both online and off.
What happened"
They say to know where you?re going, you must know where you?ve been. As a social scientist at heart and a dreamer, this cliché statement has always resonated with me. I like being able to detect patterns and look for ways to know better and do better. And I have some catching up to do: I grew up in a small town north of Toronto, where I could count the number of black families on one hand. I was vaguely aware of my differences: My hair would never swing in the sunshine, and I?d never get PB&J sandwiches for lunch. But I still made friends and had a good childhood?that is, until I reached sixth grade. Our class was studying black history, which consisted of a brief lesson on slavery. In gym that day, we happened to be doing skipping and Jump Rope for Heart training. A classmate of mine took his rope, pretended to whip me with it and called me his slave. While he didn?t physically hit me, the emotional sting of it reverberated. To a certain extent, it still does.
I am now the mother of a five-year-old boy?a little boy who will grow up to be a black man in a society that is still struggling to value the contributions of a...