Just plain qualified, with no need for qualifiers

Lack of fanfare over new post for Dominique Anglade is a step forward, Martine St-Victor says.

When Premier Philippe Couillard recently reshuffled his cabinet — a move some qualified as a simple game of musical chairs — he named Dominique Anglade as deputy premier. Anglade, a friend of mine, happens to be black.

I was delighted to see no brouhaha was made about her ethnicity. No headline blaring: “Premier names first-ever black deputy premier.” That is progress.

In addition to being named deputy premier, Anglade is also the minister of Economy, Science and Innovation and the minister responsible for Digital Strategy — some of the most important and challenging portfolios in the government.

That’s not a coincidence: spend some time with her, and you’ll quickly realize she’s a force to be reckoned with and a welcome addition to the Canadian political landscape.

Every major news outlet in Haiti, where Anglade’s parents were from, picked up the announcement of her new appointment. Its historical meaning and the pride it provides weren’t lost on me, either. Au contraire.

Still, in an environment where we continuously fight — as our elders have fought — to be evaluated on our capacities and not our gender, race, religion or creed, the lack of fanfare over the fact she’s the first black person to be so close to premiership feels like a win.

Author Ta-Nehisi Coates was a recent guest on the Charlie Rose show on PBS. In his introduction, the illustrious host reminded viewers that the New York Times wrote Coates “has become one of the most influential black intellectuals of his generation.”

Coates writes for The Atlantic, is a best-selling author and the recipient of many literary awards. He’s an intellectual who happens to be black, not a black intellectual. Calling him such is short-changing him, and us. The nuance is important.

During the interview, Rose asked Coates if, like many others at the height of their profession, he would prefer to be described without a qualifier. Of course, his answer was “yes.” Safe to assume that tennis luminary Serena Williams would prefer to be known as one of the greatest athletes in history and not just one of the greatest female athletes — something Nike understood in a clever 2016 commercial.

At some point, I hope, we’ll stop referring to Calgary’s Naheed Nenshi as “Canada’s first Muslim mayor.”

While we’re at it, we know new federal NDP leader Jagmeet Singh is Sikh. Let’s stop referring to his religion, because he’s much more than that.

When it comes to labels and descriptives, it’s high time to review some of the terms we use. Is “plus-size model” still relevant? Why can’t the fabulous Ashley Graham simply be called a model?

How about the popular hashtag #BlackGirlMagic, which gained popularity when gymnast Simone Biles won her first of many gold medals at the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympics? The hashtag #Magic would have been more powerful and could have had the borderless impact the Olympics are meant to generate. With the #BlackGirlMagic stamp, nonblack aspiring gymnasts who found inspiration in Biles might have felt excluded. That’s not progress.

What about the term SheEO, which was popularized by some women and is meant to describe a female CEO? Or Forbes’ magazine list that ranks them? Still pertinent? Because thinking of Pepsi Co.’s Indra Nooyi — one of the world’s most powerful business leaders — as a female CEO rather than a CEO, period, definitely shows some tone-deafness.

Though as women we are still fighting inequalities in the workforce, is feminizing titles a stride forward?

Our gender, race, religion, creed are part of who we are but do not define us. It’s either we want to be treated as equals or we don’t.

The choice is ours and in the words we use. They matter.