SHINING LIGHT ON HATE
Summer demonstrations ignited a fire that anti-racism advocates say can't burn out
From left, Cheryl Foggo, Adam North Peigan, Teresa Woo-paw and Adora Nwofor have experienced discrimination and are calling for change. In a special series, Postmedia journalists Alanna Smith, Sammy Hudes and Azin Ghaffari spent months researching the deep roots of racism in Calgary, and the growing movement for equality.
Candle wax melts onto the brick steps at Olympic Plaza as flames dance during a sunny July day.
The makeshift memorial honours the many lives lost to police brutality worldwide. Cardboard signs left by some of the thousands of protesters, who just minutes earlier packed the park from corner to corner, lay next to the burning candles. They read “Black Lives Matter,” “Power to the People” and “Make Injustice Visible.”
A red rose drapes over a handdrawn image of George Floyd, whose death catalyzed protests across the globe.
He died in May after a white police officer in Minnesota kneeled on his neck for almost nine minutes.
But the injustices these Calgarians were protesting are far closer to home.
In the middle of a pandemic, droves of mask-clad people thundered through the streets in numbers rarely seen in Calgary, screaming, crying and chanting in peaceful but powerful protests. Some were speaking out against injustice for the first time. Others had always been.
Indifference is no longer an option, they heard. They need to drown out a sound that has long roared in this city.
Racism is a problem that's long existed in key institutions — in government, policing and our schools — and in everyday interactions.
The fire ignited that warm summer day can't burn out as it has so many times before, say anti-racism advocates, educators and people with lived experience reflecting on the summer demonstrations.
Months later, there's still no clear path forward. But the same energy that pulsed throughout Calgary's streets must continue beating behind closed doors, they say.
Racism in these parts has long been “covert and insipid,” says anti-racism activist Adora Nwofor.
Prejudices are harboured deep inside, strengthened by generations of trauma, neglect and established norms. But today, she says, that won't necessarily result in “the N-word to your face” from a stranger during a casual encounter.
“They will walk around and talk to you saying, `I have to cross the street because there's something over there that I need,'” Nwofor says.
“And once you're gone, they cross back. It is very purposeful.”
There are important distinctions between the brand of intolerance provoking anger south of the border and the local variety. In the U.S., racism is often overt. You know what to expect, explains Shuana Porter, founder of the United Black People Allyship movement.
“When we look at America, we are looking at the man who would come to us with the gun in our face,” she says.
“The City of Calgary and the Government of Canada is like the sniper on the roof. We don't even know what to look for. Are they less dangerous because you can't see them?”
Those who identify as Black, Indigenous and people of colour “aren't looking for revenge,” Nwofor says.
They're looking for fairness. “People are pushing back and saying that `all lives matter,'” she says.
“We have to remind people that Black lives matter. If there's a burning house, you don't put water on the whole block. You have to put water on the burning house.”
The roots of racism run deep in this city.
Calgary has served as a breeding ground for white supremacist groups. It's been at the centre of civil rights abuses. And many of its residents, then and now, know the cruel consequences for the mere colour of their skin.
It was around 3:30 a.m. one May morning when three people scrawled “China virus” in black spray paint on the front wall of the Chinese consulate in downtown Calgary.
The incident left members of the community shaken. For months, they've faced targeted backlash related to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic.
“We know that racism has always been part of Canada and also anti-chinese, anti-asian sentiments and racism has always been there,” says Teresa Woo-paw, a former MLA and chair of Asian Canadians Together to End Racism.
“But I think the undercurrent is now at the surface. Some people need to find blame, to lay blame and then find scapegoats.”
Those same sentiments have persisted for more than a century — since before Calgary was incorporated as a city in 1894. Two years earlier, a race riot broke out after white residents blamed the Chinese community for a smallpox outbreak. A mob of men looted and destroyed Chinese businesses and assaulted Chinese residents.
Local police refused to act. It “might have developed into a massacre” had Mounties not shown up, reported the Calgary Daily Herald.
“An incensed crowd of between two and three thousand white people had surrounded the Oriental section of the town with the intention of forcibly evicting the Chinese element when a force of Red Coats galloped in from Gleichen,” read the newspaper's account of the violence.
News archives contain some of the few historic records of momentous civil rights battles in southern Alberta.
One such case is the story of Calgarian Charles Daniels, a railroad inspector.
When Daniels was denied a seat at a local theatre and told to sit in the “coloured” section in 1912, he launched a lawsuit against the Sherman Grand Theatre, manager William Sherman and Senator James Lougheed.
Daniels was steadfast in his fight for justice.
Opponents initially didn't take his case seriously, before later resorting to attempts to discredit Daniels' version of events.
Legal documents demonstrated a defence riddled with racism.
“If a man goes to the theatre with his wife and next to his wife he saw a coloured man, his wife would not want to sit there,” the defendants stated.
It is not certain if Daniels was ever awarded damages, but it marked one of the earliest civil rights cases in Western Canada and a landmark moment for members of Calgary's Black population in their struggle against racism.
“Black people in Calgary and southern Alberta have done incredible things in the face of incredible obstacles,” says Calgary writer and historian Cheryl Foggo.
“He stood up to the most powerful white men in this province at that time.”
Nearly half a century later, Ted King, the president of the Alberta Association for the Advancement of Colored People, also took up the fight against segregation.
In 1959, King tried to book a room at Barclay's Motel in Calgary, located on Macleod Trail, only to be refused. He claimed the motel owner told him he didn't serve “coloured people” and there were no vacancies, despite King's recollection of a vacancy sign on display.
In a human rights complaint against the motel owner, King said he suffered “humiliation, indignity and insult.”
The motel owner said his actions had nothing to do with race. Instead, he argued King was not a traveller and Barclay's Motel was not a “common inn.”
King's case was dismissed by the Alberta Supreme Court over a loophole in the Innkeepers Act. Despite the loss, his legal battle made an impact, considering the Alberta legislature closed the loophole in 1961.
These stories are often untold, says Foggo.
Black history in the region dates as far back as the very concept of Alberta. But too often, the triumphs and struggles of the community are left out of mainstream discourse — a “gap in stories and in history books” imparted on young minds, she says.
“I grew up in an immigrant community, and most of my classmates were first-generation Canadians,” says Foggo. “I was aware that my family had already been here, at that time, three, four generations. I was almost always the only Black child in any classroom. My history was one that simply never came up, was never addressed in any way. We were not considered among stories that were shared about our history.”
In 1940, white soldiers accused a Black musician of assaulting one of their own after he spoke to a woman a soldier was interested in. A mob of about 300 soldiers marched to his home where they smashed his windows, destroyed the interior and chanted racial slurs, according to newspaper reports from that time.
He was hustled out by police but remained ready to defend himself, grasping a butcher knife should they make it to his location.
Calgary has been considered a safe haven for white men emboldened to perpetrate violence against communities of colour, according to Jason Devine, who leads Anti-racism Action in Calgary.
The mid-2000s into the 2010s marked the height of influence by neo-nazis operating in Calgary, says Devine, an activist who has exposed and confronted neo-nazi organizations and their members since 1999.
At the climax of clashes between anti-racism advocates and white supremacists, skinheads who donned white pride patches on leather jackets and balaclavas marched through Calgary's streets chanting anti-immigrant, anti- Semitic and Islamophobic messages.
Black in Calgary people and southern Alberta have done incredible things in the face of incredible obstacles.
CHERYL FOGGO, above, author and historian
We'll know never how many people had their blood run in the streets because of (white supremacist) groups.
JASON DE VINE, above, Anti-Racism Action
We know that racism has always been part of Canada and also anti-chinese, anti-asian sentiments and racism has always been there.
But I think the undercurrent is now at the surface. Some people need to find blame, to lay blame and then find scapegoats.
TERESA WOO - PAW, left, chair of Asian Canadians Together to End Racism
In 2009, 60 members of the neo-nazi Aryan Guard group squared off with counter-protesters in a violent demonstration. That was the second year in a row, on March 22, in which anti-racism protesters outnumbered far-right groups, who recognized the date as a white pride day worldwide.
It also marks the international day for the celebration of the elimination of racial discrimination.
Alberta was home to groups like Western Canada for Us, the Western European Bloodline, Soldiers of Odin and the Aryan Guard, which later became Blood and Honour and has since been deemed a terrorist organization in Canada.
Members remain today.
“We'll never know how many people had their blood run in the streets because of those groups,” says Devine, adding many — especially those from racialized backgrounds — don't report violent incidents for fear of retribution.
He says confronting organizations like Blood and Honour was at times “absolutely terrifying.”
Devine recalls his home being firebombed, facing death threats and surviving a murder attempt in which suspected members of a neo-nazi organization broke into his home and beat him with hammers and bats.
“I thought, `This is it,'” says Devine.“i don't regret it at all. Because if they didn't beat us, who else would they beat? Somebody was going to face this violence sooner or later. So, you just come to accept it.”
Racism is at times obvious. Other times it isn't. It comes in the form of hate crimes; of police brutality; and of overrepresentation of Black and Indigenous people in the criminal, justice and foster care systems. It's the underpinning of residential schools and the '60s Scoop.
But it also comes in the form of microaggressions — indirect, subtle or unintentional discrimination toward people of colour.
Police dashboard camera footage from earlier this year showed an RCMP officer tackling, punching and choke-holding Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation Chief Allan Adam during an arrest, after police noticed an expired licence plate on Adam's vehicle.
Helicopter video resurfaced this year of the violent arrest of Godfred Addai-nyamekye by Calgary police in 2013. Officers charged Addai-nyamekye with public intoxication and dropped him off far from home in the dead of winter.
He called police for help; instead, one officer repeatedly punched him in the head and kneed him in the back. Const. Trevor Lindsay, the officer connected to the case, retired earlier this year, meaning he won't face a disciplinary hearing for those actions.
Since the start of this school year, multiple recordings have been posted in which Calgary teachers used the N-word in recent years. A spokesperson for Education Minister Adriana Lagrange condemned those incidents, saying “this is unacceptable. Period.”
According to Vicki Bouvier, an associate professor at Mount Royal University who specializes in Indigenous studies, the education system remains a key area where decision-makers can begin rooting out the ills of society.
It starts with acknowledging racism is entrenched in Canada's colonial history, which bled into existing systems that distribute power, opportunity and resources to the benefit of white people.
“Curriculum is designed to tell the story of colonizers and settlers,” she says. “That's racism.”
Hidden discrimination, such as omissions in what is taught, can be “so insidious that you receive it and don't realize that it is racist.” She says we need to pull apart policies and procedures to understand how racism is embedded in schools. But a lack of understanding — or perhaps, more befitting, the willingness to understand — still pervades the education system, says Adam North Peigan, president of the Sixties Scoop Indigenous Society of Alberta.
Take Alberta's curriculum review and comments by Chris Champion, one of the advisers tasked with examining social studies lessons for students in this province.
An article published last year under Champion's byline referred to the inclusion of Indigenous perspectives as a “fad.” He wrote that an exercise designed to teach students about the impact of European settlers “brainwashes children.”
The advice of the government's hand-picked advisers includes waiting until the fourth grade to start discussions on “traumatic material” related to residential schools. Drafts of the recommendations referred to equity as a “politically partisan and charged buzzword.”
North Peigan called on Premier Jason Kenney to fire Champion in August. Champion remained part of the panel until it was disbanded in mid-november.
“A lot of our non-native brothers and sisters, they don't want to learn, they don't want to understand,” North Peigan says.
“Education is an important tool. Mainstream Albertans and governments, they need to have an open mind, and they need to have a willingness to sit down and learn about the true history of our people in Canada.”
The Alberta government says feedback from its curriculum advisers “are merely recommendations.” No final decisions have been made, but it plans to include an “anti-racism” focus.
“The new curriculum will teach our students a full history of Canada, including Francophone, First Nations, Métis and Inuit history,” says Colin Aitchison, a spokesperson for Lagrange.
“Residential schools will also be covered within the curriculum — the minister has already made it clear that this is non-negotiable.”
Aitchison added the social studies curriculum already has a strong focus on issues related to the “histories, cultures, and contributions of Indigenous peoples and people of African and Caribbean descent to both Alberta and Canada.”
Unconscious biases still extend far beyond the classroom, however. Chantal Chagnon remembers feeling dehumanized in a hospital waiting room.
A car accident several years ago left her with a hip injury. Her recovery required multiple surgeries.
Chagnon, a Cree Ojibwe Métis activist, needed a prescription refilled to numb the “excruciating pain.” The normally routine errand, however, was disrupted by an encounter with a stranger, who recognized her for her community work.
“You're that Indigenous girl who marches for murdered and missing women,” they said.
Chagnon, who is white-passing, says health-care staff overheard the encounter. They instantly changed their demeanour.
“They're like, `Oh, you're Indigenous. I don't think we can give you this prescription. We're pretty sure it's a dependency issue,'” she recalls. “I'm like, `Excuse me?'”
With tears in her eyes, Chagnon sat in the waiting room for hours until a nursing staff shift change. When a different nurse entered the room she received her usual medication. That's what it took to be treated with dignity.
“She was like, `I'm really sorry for this.' She was a racialized nurse and she understood exactly what we were going through,” Chagnon says.
The incident was no fluke. In health-care settings, racialized communities are often perceived to be “deficient,” says Bouvier.
Sometimes it's a woman of colour receiving extra advice during a pregnancy checkup on how to parent. It could be Indigenous people having to wait longer than others to see a doctor or nurse, lest they be refused services entirely.
Members of the homeless population, of which a disproportionate segment are Indigenous, face even further dehumanization.
“There's all of these assumptions,” says Bouvier.
“This happens every day. So how can we — in hospitals, in healthcare facilities — ensure that those racist ideas are not dictating how patients receive care?”
Alberta Health Services says in a statement the agency is aware of “unacceptable acts and language” in the past. The health authority says it reviews every concern and takes steps to make amends in situations that warrant an apology.
AHS says employees must undergo Indigenous awareness training as part of their diversity and inclusion instruction.
The agency has also created a Black, Indigenous and people of colour anti-racism advocacy group to “develop anti-racism activities” and an ethnic minority workforce resource group to tackle issues that arise in the workplace.
“However, it is clear more must be done,” said AHS in a statement. “AHS has and will continue to take a strong stance against any act of racism, discrimination or intolerance.”
For those who have never had to ponder the possibility of facing discrimination based on the colour of their skin, it's no surprise to Bouvier these blind spots remain.
It's not that the majority of southern Albertans are racist or perform blatantly racist actions, like those spread across social media or documented in newspaper articles long ago.
Far from it, actually.
But being actively anti-racist takes something much bigger, she says, than simply lacking hateful views or attending a rally at Olympic Plaza — it takes a commitment to do something about it.
“In order for it to change, people have to give something up,” says Bouvier. “People may not see themselves as racist, but they also don't see that they benefit from racism. If all the policies and procedures benefit you, have you ever acknowledged who they don't benefit?
“That is a hard thing to admit.”