The B Word

It’s been a year and five months of living in a rural area for the first time in my life, and as charming as it has been (yes, I also skated on the lake, and it was magical), it’s hard not to notice that there is one culture here—with variations of whiteness. Yes, the South Shore embodies that stereotypical Canadian niceness; people, in general, are genuinely kind—so kind that they might be scared to offend us. And let’s be honest, our generation can be a little intimidating when someone isn’t up to date with all the new lingo. But they’re so scared, they’re missing out on actually getting to know us.

When I say us, I mean people like me. I am a Black immigrant queer woman, and I’m finding it a little hard to be here during this month of celebrating Black greatness. Looking around, I see a beautiful revolution happening in the South Shore—but one led by white, middle-class people. I don’t blame these folks who are simply trying to live authentically, in fact I admire them greatly; it just feels heavy knowing that this space is not accessible to most marginalized people. And in many cases, it also doesn’t feel safe.

It doesn’t feel safe because, for the most part, long-standing residents can’t talk about racism, admit their biases, or even say the word Black without lowering their voices. There is that general niceness, but not a real interest in expanding their world of privilege. There is no curiosity beyond empty remarks about how beautiful my hair is or how much you love my accent. When I try to tell you about how I grew up or why I’m here, there are no follow-up questions. More often than not, I feel like I’m the only one trying to get to know you. Let’s not forget that what we call Canada today was built on immigration—colonization—through dominance, and the dominant culture we live in now was forced upon stolen land. Culture, like language and human beings, is meant to evolve—to unlearn, grow, and embrace the incredible diversity of our world.

I have been called dramatic, intense, and, of course, “the angry Black woman.” The truth is, I wouldn’t even consider myself angry anymore. I am disappointed—and bored—by how people limit themselves to one way of being when there are millions of possibilities waiting to happen, to be talked about, to be seen and heard. By expanding your world, you might think you’re being generous, that you’re benefiting the other. But the reality is, your world becomes bigger. You gain new philosophies to compare yours with. You gain new music, new art, new languages. You become a bigger person because of it.

I am done erasing myself to fit in. I am done perpetuating white supremacy—not just by putting white culture on a pedestal but by dismissing how incredible we Black people are. Canada, and Nova Scotia, is better because we are all here, together. This is how I celebrate myself now. And this is how I celebrate this month. I love you, and I know you are doing your best. I also love myself, with everything that comes with me. Would you be open to loving me too?