For real change, we must be collectively anti-racist

For the past couple of weeks, my social media feeds have been flooded with posts about anti-racism and equal justice. It is all I have been reading about. One night, as I was scrolling through Twitter, I could not help but notice one particular post that was unlike any other. It was a short, simple question: “What grade were you when you had your first Black teacher?”

The question stopped me in my tracks. I blankly stared at the screen for almost a minute. I started racking my brain, thinking back to kindergarten, elementary school and high school. Nothing. I thought to myself, “That must be wrong,” but it was not.

After a few minutes of picking through my memory, I finally found my answer: second-year university. I have had one Black professor in my entire life. Only one in my 16 years of schooling. This time I said it out loud: “That must be wrong.” But it was not. At this point, I felt overwhelmed. I got that feeling inside when you know something is inherently wrong. A part of me thought that maybe this was just my personal experience, so I asked my boyfriend the same question. The room went silent. Never. He has never had a Black teacher. “That’s so messed up,” he murmured.

Then he asked two of his friends. Never. They have never had a Black teacher.

This felt wrong for so many reasons. Obviously, the mere fact that almost all of our teachers have been white, but — more prominently — that we all never really noticed. We noticed to the degree that we could recall never having a Black teacher, but we also unconsciously overlooked it.

The education I have received, until university, on the lives and histories Black, Indigenous and People of Colour was through my white teachers, Black history clubs and textbooks from the colonial perspective on Indigenous history.

Just as I have never had a Black teacher until university, I have also never had an Indigenous teacher.

Many questions ran through my mind: How were we all shocked? How have we not noticed? How did we not question this?

There is one simple answer: the colour of my skin. Since I am white, I am able to turn a blind eye to racism simply because it does not directly affect me. I am guilty — as I presume most white people are — of being able to overlook my privilege.

I cannot reassure myself by saying, “I am not racist” because, frankly, it is not enough. I have been saying I am not racist my entire life, yet somehow systemic racism has greatly impacted the type of education I have received.

For real change, we need to be collectively anti-racist, which can be achieved in a multitude of ways. We must openly listen to the stories and experiences of Black, Indigenous and People of Colour, but we must also realize that being able to educate ourselves about racism, rather than experiencing it, is a privilege in itself.

As Audre Lorde, an American writer and civil activist, said, “It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept and celebrate those differences.”

I cannot deny that I have privilege, but I think it is important that I, among others, utilize this privilege to actively oppose racism.

We should do so not only on social media, but through petitions, donations, protests and behind closed doors, when it is all too easy to revert back to our old ways.

But before any of this can happen, we need to listen and understand the experiences of those who have been brutalized and oppressed for far too long.