What do we really know? And what do we assume?
This morning I was woken up, much too early, by my four-yearold son, who had crawled into bed with me. Despite his tiny size, he somehow occupied all but two inches of my bed and left me dangling over the edge. He lay sideways, snoring and hugging his beloved bear.
For about two seconds, I was annoyed at being awoken hours before my alarm. Then I thought about the heartbroken mother of Ahmedsadiq Elmmi, who would likely give her soul to have her son sleeping in her bed, just one more time.
It’s hard for a mother’s brain to wrap around the concept of her child dying. The mere thought makes us want to die too. We can’t imagine living in a world without our children, nor do we want to. These are normal feelings.
What wasn’t normal was the bizarre, and sometimes horrifying commentary that surrounded Ahmedsadiq’s death, the false narratives that were created simply for parents to convince themselves that what happened to him could never happen to their child.
The first salvo lodged was “autism,” as in, “The child who drowned had autism.” First, even if Ahmedsadiq had autism (which has never been confirmed), who cares? Does it matter? Would it justify the drowning? The term was certainly used that way.
Then there was “recent immigrant.” Just when you think the world has moved forward in the battle against racism, another appalling example of stereotyping and profiling happens. Ahmedsadiq was born in Canada, Prince Albert, to be exact. This young Canadian lived all his life in this fine country. The Elmmi family moved to Saskatoon within the past year. The last time I checked, any five-year-old born in Prince Albert is as Canadian as the next kid.
So where did the label “recent immigrant” come from? It appears that upon hearing the name “Ahmedsadiq Elmmi,” people immediately jumped to the stereotypical conclusion that the child must be new to Canada. We live in a day and age when these banal, and frankly racist, assumptions are no longer fair or accurate. This was a particularly harsh lesson when Ahmedsadiq’s grieving father appeared in local media, feeling somehow obligated to defend his son’s Canadian identity.
Of course, “recent immigrant” was quickly followed up with “didn’t speak English.” Again, this was a fabrication based on racist stereotypes. It is irrelevant what language was spoken at home (although, I point out again that we have no knowledge about the language used in Ahmedsadiq’s home). Children growing up in Prince Albert, riding bikes, splashing in spray parks, attending preschool and daycare and watching Paw Patrol, all speak English. It doesn’t matter if English is not spoken at home; a five-year-old born and raised in Prince Albert is surrounded by an English-speaking community, and five-year-olds have remarkable brains that allow them to learn languages with a fluidity and ease that we envy as adults.
If we take away the labels of “autism” and “recent immigrant” and “doesn’t speak English,” what are we left with? A beautiful little boy who was no different than any other who lives in the homes of Saskatoon. We are left with a little boy who, like all others, makes decisions and choices based on logic that is understandable to no one. Some of these decisions are comical, lead us to laugh out loud and add to the magical charm and delight of being a child. Some of these decisions lead to tragic consequences that shake us to our core.
Why are these fabrications of “recent immigrant” and “doesn’t speak English” generated when there is nothing to justify the information? They are created by people as a way of convincing themselves that certain events and heartache could never happen to them.
No one should fool themselves into thinking that Ahmedsadiq was any different, or less adored, than any other child. It’s not fair to his family to perpetuate these falsehoods, particularly to his parents, who are in no position to defend themselves and their son, and nor should they have to.