Talking to my children about racism has become much more complicated – The Globe and Mail

Fayeque Townsend-Rahman is a Canadian filmmaker. His first film, Necessary Illusions, won the Visionary Award at the D.C. Independent Film Festival.

Months of isolation elapsed, exposing enough of our vulnerabilities to bring us together as a species. But nobody expected what came: intimately witnessing the dark underbelly of what humans can do to each other, as we saw with the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis.

I am an ethnic minority (I hope thats the right term) or racialized Canadian (a new term Ive learned). I am the father of two biracial children. My wife is an Anglo-Saxon Haligonian. To many, we epitomize neo-Canadian society and culture.

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Diversity is said to be this countrys strength. But a recent YouGov study showed that 72 per cent of Canadians believe racism is a serious problem in this country. However, 42 per cent didnt agree wholeheartedly, selecting the somewhat agree option. Indeed, 25 per cent disagreed (strongly or somewhat disagreed).

I find this fascinating. It shows that we are either conflicted about what racism entails or have citizens with exceptional self-awareness. Until recently, I would have bet on the latter because were Canadian.

Since the tragedy in Minneapolis, I have had a tough time talking to my children about their future. Statistics highlighting how the Black community is disproportionately discriminated against are painful but dont affect those of my colour as intensely. But I have been left humiliated, defeated and physically scarred simply because of the body I was born into.

Experiencing racism is a natural part of my existence.

Living in Italy in the eighties, xenophobia was (and arguably still is) a cultural norm. It was clear as day, with all the kids hanging out under fascist graffiti made by organized groups of violent footfall fans, the ultras. As a fluent Italian speaker, I could have easily passed as a regular Italian kid but for the colour of my skin.

In the nineties, I had the privilege of attending a posh boarding school in England. By the time I graduated, I just accepted myself as a Paki. I even called my brown friends by the slur. I remember a South Asian student being nicknamed Easter. I cant remember his real name because he was called Easter from the age of 13 until he left the school as an adult. Why? Because the French word for Easter is Pques.

At the time, racism was normalized.

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These anecdotes are just the soft tip of the iceberg. But I am still alive. And here in Canada, I have experienced far fewer moments of intolerance than I have anywhere else.

That would have been my message for my children had the social zeitgeist not shifted after those fateful eight minutes and 46 seconds for Mr. Floyd and had the Amy Cooper incident, in which a white woman falsely claimed she was threatened by a Black man in Central Park, not flooded social media.

Nobody can minimize the atrocity committed in Minneapolis. Yet, as a person of colour, I am now more terrified of people like Ms. Cooper than I am of being killed by a police officer.

The same YouGov study I cited above asked pointed questions about race. More than 50 per cent of Canadians believe that preferring to live in a community that is mostly or exclusively the same race as them is not a racist scenario. According to a recent article by CBC, Canadians are among the most active in online, right-wing extremism more than users in the U.S. and Britain. Last year, Global News cited a report by the Environics Institute for Survey Research suggesting that more than half of Black and Indigenous Canadians reported being discriminated against 40 per cent said it happened at work.

These figures tell a complicated story. What frightens me is that my daily interactions in my community, at work or at the pub have a statistical probability of being racially charged. And there is no uniform to signal impending danger.

I would never have ascribed bigotry to Ms. Cooper, a university-educated person with an impressive rsum. She could be my boss, my colleague, a fellow parent or my childrens teacher. Yet we watched her weaponize the police with absolute racial intent. She now represents an unknown enemy.

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Instagram posts supporting Black Lives Matter and corporate e-mails about intolerance are fancy. But will todays movement be remembered? After all, my children dont know who Rodney King is. Most people have forgotten Eric Garner and Botham Jean. Will Mr. Floyd pass into our latent history of racial pain?

To my kids, I can only say: Honour your heritage, because it will define you throughout your life. Remember the history of those who have fallen to the evil of racism. Have the courage to document injustice but, most of all, find the courage to stand up for human dignity no matter the cost.

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Talking to my children about racism has become much more complicated - The Globe and Mail

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