As I scrolled through my social media feeds on Tuesday, I was immediately filled with a sense of hopefulness at the continuous streams of black squares that flooded my screen. The only posts that seemed to defer from this trend were those continuing the education process, and the plethora of advertisements from companies that seem to think I’m interested in their products, but are actually fairly irrelevant to me. To see so many people taking a pause from their daily postings to focus the energy, globally, on a long-overdue conversation, well that’s something I never expected to see; especially while coinciding with the pandemic.
But recently two places have become frequent overthinking hotspots for my brain - my morning run and the shower. While partaking in both of these activities my mind is in overdrive and I find myself becoming increasingly angry about the things happening in the world today. And on Tuesday, despite the above return of hope, it just as quickly washed away.
I have been struggling with the myriad of social media postings over the last week or so. On the one hand, happy to see a conversation starting; on the other, questioning the intent behind each one. Is it because it’s trendy and could lead to increased likes (after all, this is what matters most in our virtual society!), or is it because there is a real drive to see change? Even my own posts, I’m questioning whether or not I should be posting or if my voice is really needed for this conversation.
So as I scrolled through those feeds filled with black square after black square, I took note of who was following along. And this led to my shower-time breakdown.
I don’t believe the people in my circle that are showing support for this movement are doing so as a form of personal or professional gain. I think there is a genuine care and concern for a better way forward. But there is a certain degree of hypocrisy within it all.
If I may shift to my African experiences for a moment, some of this frustration might become a little more evident. For, you see, every time I return from my latest adventure abroad - whether it’s a quick visit home from the continent or from travels related to work and play - I am greeted with questions and comments that are completely coloured in stereotypes and just plain ignorance. How do you get around? How do they communicate? What do you eat? Sure, these may seem like innocent conversation starters, but when they are met with shock when I respond with on roads with cars; cell phones; or witness disbelief that there are tomatoes in Africa, it hurts and it’s tiring. Or when I so-freely invite people to join me on a future trip, only to be told I don’t want to be surrounded by poverty on my vacation, it makes me realize just how much we are influenced by media on what the realities of life outside our Westernized, privileged bubble look like. I am all for helping the education process, and I understand not everyone has been as fortunate as I am to have travelled to many of the countries I am grateful to have lived or visited. But there comes a point when this just isn’t okay.
I realize that last part will sound like I am passive-aggressively calling some of you out for past conversations, but we have had those discussions face-to-faces and my frustration is not something I have hidden from you. I realize also that some of you are family or those I consider my closest friends. But I’m struggling to reconcile how you can indicate the injustices against Black people in the West are unfair, yet so quickly dismiss the injustices and stereotypes of those from the African continent.
We have grown up believing the messaging from a multi-billion dollar industry of poverty that shows us images of poor, starving Africans that are too malnourished and lacking in energy to swat away the flies that are resting on their faces*, in exchange for high-cost administrative fees that pay for Western jobs more so than helping to achieve the very outcome they are alleging to address. Messages that only perpetuate the reality of a continent held back by Western actions, rather than celebrating its innovation, beauty, and capacity.
I have struggled with living in Canada ever since I first returned from the continent I love so much. I struggle to reconcile these two realities. I struggle to understand how things can be applied to one but not the other. I struggle with the unwillingness to learn and grow from those who have real-lived experiences to share, to reshape how we see other parts of the world that may be different from our own. I struggle with having to question which stories and experiences to share, for fear that despite the hundreds of beautiful, inspiring and positive moments I proudly tell, it’s the infrequent moments of negative experiences that are the only thing people choose to remember. I struggle with showing proof that regardless of our origins, culture, differences, etc., that fundamentally, we are all the same and there is no reason to fear, judge or assume.
I struggle with hope. I struggle with seeing a positive future. I struggle to see the point of trying to make a difference if it is always going to be lost in the misinformation of our world.
I struggle with hope and I am tired.
And yet, my lived reality is one of privilege. I do not live in constant fear that my actions will lead to my demise. I do not live in fear that a misunderstood facial expression, my clothing choices, or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time could lead to a jail sentence or worse. I do not understand how fear can be the basis of how we treat another human being, just as I do not understand what it is like to live a life other than my own.
I think it’s wonderful - truly - to see so many people outraged by recent world events. I think it’s wonderful to see an uprising all over the world to make changes that are generations too late. And I’m proud of those of you who are listening, learning, supporting, etc. But my hope, my ask, is that you apply this same outrage, concern, and desire to see kindness, justice and understanding to the many others who share a similar trait. Pigment.
- the Orange Canadian
*In no way am I attempting to assert that poverty does not exist in Africa. I am, however, trying to highlight that there is more to the continent than what media portrays it to be.
