I Won't Turn Back
A few years ago at the start of a school year, using an icebreaker to introduce ourselves, I asked students in my mentorship group to share something unique about themselves. I was pleasantly surprised by one student in particular.
That student shared they were the only person in the room of mixed parental heritage with one parent being white, the other Black. As we finished our introductions, I came back to the student with a modest qualification. I quoted the old adage that one cannot judge a book by its cover. That in fact, I too am a child of a Black parent.
My parents were married in Quebec during the 1950s. My mother was white francophone whose ancestry traced back to New France and my father was a Black Canadian of West Indian heritage. In many ways my parents were pioneers of their generation; breaking new ground, challenging old taboos, opening new doors. At the same time, many people (overwhelmingly the majority white community) were extremely uncomfortable with their choice to marry “outside their race,” and far too many expressed their views in insensitive ways. Racism was alive and well in 1950s Canada.
It was similar for me and my siblings growing up in a mixed marriage. We were subject to name calling, ignorant questions, many insults and even aggression. In those years, people could say whatever they wanted with relative impunity. Surprisingly, the most painful slights came from the people closest to you. I can still recall in detail an incident during my high school years that took place in the middle of a hockey game. A close friend of mine was playing on the opposing team. The two of us were extremely competitive and going at each other throughout the match. At one point, my friend turned to me in anger and at the top of his lungs shouted, “you (expletive) half breed!” The game stopped and everyone stared. Now I had experienced a lot worse behaviors before and after that time. But the notion that a close friend would use race to hurt me felt like a betrayal. The incident left me feeling angry, embarrassed and alone.
Prior to joining TFS, I had the privilege of working for the United Church of Canada, a faith organization that prides itself on inclusion and outreach. One February, I was given the opportunity to lead a service during Black History Month. I began my talk by quoting Maya Angelou’s eulogy of her friend Coretta Scott King, the widow of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Angelou launched by singing: I open my mouth to the Lord and I won't turn back, no. I will go, I shall go. I'll see what the end is gonna be.
Angelou went on to describe a world where peace and justice should not be either/or but both: I mean to say I want to see a better world. I mean to say I want to see some peace somewhere. I mean to say I want to see some honesty, some fair play. I want to see kindness and justice. This is what I want to see and I want to see it through my eyes and through your eyes.
Despite the many inclusion and diversity barriers that continue to have a detrimental effect on our society, I do see progress towards honesty and fair play, especially in the younger generation.
At TFS, every school year we discuss in the classroom, at assembly and in mentorship such topics like friendship, inclusion, tolerance, differences, discrimination, harassment and bullying. We do so because, like with any part of our society, we are not free from our own challenges, incidents and hurtful moments. We also intentionally prepare our students to become active citizens, especially in the area of helping to shape Canada, and the world, into becoming a more just society. As stated in our mission, our students strive for the betterment of humankind. Relative to past generations and my own experience, I am constantly amazed at how easily the vast majority of our students practice inclusion and acceptance of differences. They operate at a level of inclusion and tolerance I could not have imagined growing up.
Last year, the murder of George Floyd was a painful reminder of how much work remains undone. Even for someone who was raised with stories like the one about Emmett Till, the 14 year-old African American who was lynched in 1955 for “offending” a white women, and the many other names of those who paid a heavy price for hate and discrimination, the eight minutes and 46 seconds of the George Floyd video was shocking beyond belief.
When we discussed the taking of the life of George Floyd in mentorship this year, I began by saying to my group of students that we all hurt for what happened and what that heinous act says about our society. I told them of earlier generations, including mine, who struggled to make progress in the face of prejudice and intolerance. We were far from successful. And yet, I still maintain hope for a better future because of the attitude and actions of young people like themselves. I told them how I was heartened by youths of all backgrounds taking to the streets, day after day, in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter protests. And who can forget that powerful example of bearing witness, when a 17-year-old stayed with George Floyd to record the terrible crime. Young people can and are making a difference.
In 1955, an all-white, all-male jury acquitted the defendants of the lynching of Emmett Till. In 2021, a jury of diverse backgrounds convicted a police officer of the murder of George Floyd. In between those years and since, too many senseless acts of hate have continued and still continue and a just society remains elusive. Progress is never easy nor a straight line.
Martin Luther King Jr. was fond of quoting that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice. For many of us, this remains an affirmation of optimism and faith in humanity. We may struggle, and at times social justice seems far away, but the trajectory toward it remains steady. Today’s best expression of that hopefulness is watching our young people lead the way through the power of example. Together with them, let us attend to what we must do and to see what the end is gonna be.
Back
My parents were married in Quebec during the 1950s. My mother was white francophone whose ancestry traced back to New France and my father was a Black Canadian of West Indian heritage. In many ways my parents were pioneers of their generation; breaking new ground, challenging old taboos, opening new doors. At the same time, many people (overwhelmingly the majority white community) were extremely uncomfortable with their choice to marry “outside their race,” and far too many expressed their views in insensitive ways. Racism was alive and well in 1950s Canada.
It was similar for me and my siblings growing up in a mixed marriage. We were subject to name calling, ignorant questions, many insults and even aggression. In those years, people could say whatever they wanted with relative impunity. Surprisingly, the most painful slights came from the people closest to you. I can still recall in detail an incident during my high school years that took place in the middle of a hockey game. A close friend of mine was playing on the opposing team. The two of us were extremely competitive and going at each other throughout the match. At one point, my friend turned to me in anger and at the top of his lungs shouted, “you (expletive) half breed!” The game stopped and everyone stared. Now I had experienced a lot worse behaviors before and after that time. But the notion that a close friend would use race to hurt me felt like a betrayal. The incident left me feeling angry, embarrassed and alone.
Prior to joining TFS, I had the privilege of working for the United Church of Canada, a faith organization that prides itself on inclusion and outreach. One February, I was given the opportunity to lead a service during Black History Month. I began my talk by quoting Maya Angelou’s eulogy of her friend Coretta Scott King, the widow of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Angelou launched by singing: I open my mouth to the Lord and I won't turn back, no. I will go, I shall go. I'll see what the end is gonna be.
Angelou went on to describe a world where peace and justice should not be either/or but both: I mean to say I want to see a better world. I mean to say I want to see some peace somewhere. I mean to say I want to see some honesty, some fair play. I want to see kindness and justice. This is what I want to see and I want to see it through my eyes and through your eyes.
Despite the many inclusion and diversity barriers that continue to have a detrimental effect on our society, I do see progress towards honesty and fair play, especially in the younger generation.
At TFS, every school year we discuss in the classroom, at assembly and in mentorship such topics like friendship, inclusion, tolerance, differences, discrimination, harassment and bullying. We do so because, like with any part of our society, we are not free from our own challenges, incidents and hurtful moments. We also intentionally prepare our students to become active citizens, especially in the area of helping to shape Canada, and the world, into becoming a more just society. As stated in our mission, our students strive for the betterment of humankind. Relative to past generations and my own experience, I am constantly amazed at how easily the vast majority of our students practice inclusion and acceptance of differences. They operate at a level of inclusion and tolerance I could not have imagined growing up.
Last year, the murder of George Floyd was a painful reminder of how much work remains undone. Even for someone who was raised with stories like the one about Emmett Till, the 14 year-old African American who was lynched in 1955 for “offending” a white women, and the many other names of those who paid a heavy price for hate and discrimination, the eight minutes and 46 seconds of the George Floyd video was shocking beyond belief.
When we discussed the taking of the life of George Floyd in mentorship this year, I began by saying to my group of students that we all hurt for what happened and what that heinous act says about our society. I told them of earlier generations, including mine, who struggled to make progress in the face of prejudice and intolerance. We were far from successful. And yet, I still maintain hope for a better future because of the attitude and actions of young people like themselves. I told them how I was heartened by youths of all backgrounds taking to the streets, day after day, in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter protests. And who can forget that powerful example of bearing witness, when a 17-year-old stayed with George Floyd to record the terrible crime. Young people can and are making a difference.
In 1955, an all-white, all-male jury acquitted the defendants of the lynching of Emmett Till. In 2021, a jury of diverse backgrounds convicted a police officer of the murder of George Floyd. In between those years and since, too many senseless acts of hate have continued and still continue and a just society remains elusive. Progress is never easy nor a straight line.
Martin Luther King Jr. was fond of quoting that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice. For many of us, this remains an affirmation of optimism and faith in humanity. We may struggle, and at times social justice seems far away, but the trajectory toward it remains steady. Today’s best expression of that hopefulness is watching our young people lead the way through the power of example. Together with them, let us attend to what we must do and to see what the end is gonna be.
