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Name: AKA
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Changing the World
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Canada License.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
(preamble: colour, color...what's the difference? I'm getting flack for changing my Canadian spellings to the American version. Listen, I'm a perfectionist - I can't handle the squiggly red underlining in MS Word when it recognizes my Canadian spellings as "incorrect" - it bugs me to no end so I've given in. Plus, when in Rome...)
One of my earliest memories of being singled out for being different was in grade 2 ("2nd grade" for the Americans, as my cousins are always quick to point out) when a boy in my class persisted in taunting me by calling me "Paki". I was a naive kid (probably still am) and not having any older siblings, I had to figure a lot our for myself. I didn't learn the bad words before the others kids, I didn't get advice on what houses to go to for Halloween for the best candy, or even what university would be better for me. Being the eldest means you're the trial-and-error child. Parents make the mistakes with you and your younger siblings benefit from the lesson learned from the mistakes. My mom, for example, learned to bundle her children tighter so they don't fall (don't run out to get Social Services, it was an accident and was more of a fumble than a "fall").
What was I talking about? Yes - being singled out. So when this kid started calling me a Paki, I had no clue what it meant since I'd never heard the word before in my life. Even if someone were to explain it to me, I'd probably still be confused because my parents are from India. Him being a homegrown white kid and me being the new kid at the school and one of the only brown-tones ones (this was way back before the corruption of Brampton folks...waayyyyy back when) I didn't really catch on that he was taunting my race.
I knew I was different. The other kids ate a lot of casseroles and mac 'n' cheese, whereas I had roti and rice as my staples. But I didn't think my difference meant anything. This kid (first name Shane, last name I can't remember but when I do, boy is he going to get the egging of a lifetime) obviously picked it up from somewhere that the word "Paki" was derogatory and was to be labelled on anyone who was of medium to darker brown skin.
I'd just moved from Toronto to Brampton, where in the former there were many people from different backgrounds, many who shared mine. I may have just figured that the kids in my new class would accept me as I was, like i had been in my other school. Looking back I think I'd be hated on not only by Shane, but also by my grade 3 teacher (first name not known - teachers didn't have first names, just Miss, Mrs, Ms or Mr - last name Ferguson). She was always rude to my mom and seemed to pick on me compared to the other kids. The last more blatant episode being when I worked at a certain housewares store about 5 years ago and right after 9/11 when my manager found out I was Muslim she started being rude towards me and gave me fewer shifts (later, after I left, I found she was demoted in the company for other reasons. I know I shouldn't but - muahahaha).
Do you still feel like you are different? Still feel prejudice or racism wherever you go? I think we're so PC-crazy that we're not likely to make our true feeling known, but many people still carry prejudices underneath. Stereotypes being the lighter form of them (see: Chris Rock, Russell Peters, Dave Chappelle).
My brother recently said he doesn't think hate exists anymore. I think he's the naive one (no offence meant, bro). Differences are tolerated more maybe, goes back to the PC-craze, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
But thinking about it can make you paranoid. Everytime you interact with someone of a different race, nationality, religion or occupation you'll start to wonder if it's because of your colour. "Is the old lady by the dairy section eyeing me? Do I have something on my face? Is it my face!? Come to think of it, I just caught that bearded man looking at me weird too. Or did I?"
A (white) friend of mine once said she doesn't ever think about a person's colour. No, she's not colourblind - it just that her race or another person's just doesn't ever enter her mind when she interacts with them. I envy her. It may just be different experiences I've had, but it's always on my mind when I meet someone. It's not that I'd treat someone differently based on their race, but it just, unconsciously, adjusts my behaviour. It probably goes with the "birds of a feather" saying but many times people, will makes friends with other people of the same race. This being mostly found with people of the South-asian persuasion. In high school, if you hung out with the other brown kids, you were ok (there were/are degrees within that group as well). If you hung out with the white kids, you were white-washed. You hung out with the black kids, you wanted to be thugified. You hung out with the Oriental kids, you were an engineer.
That's still stayed with me. Pretty much all of my close friends are all of the same background as me. I do have good friends of other races (is that a word?) but we never all hang out together. And you see that trend with other groups as well throughout university and outside the workplace (co-worker friends don't count, you don't choose them, you're stuck together). Is that racist? Are we purposely excluding people of other races to seek out people of our own? Does that make me as bad as Shane, even though I'm not as vulgar or blatant about it?
Being in a small city hasn't helped. Back home the south-asian populations is...overwhelming. But here, I feel singled out again. A little vulnerable and under the microscope. I thought people were generally really nice here until a girl I met of a Somalian background told me many times it's just a front. People ask me where I'm from and when I reply "Canada" they always look puzzled.
"No, I mean where are you from?" they ask again.
Maybe they mean city? "Toronto," I reply.
"But where were you born" they will persist.
It's at this point that I catch on, but dependingon the manner in which it's asked I'll reply differently. If it's a politely inquisitive manner:
"I was born in Toronto, though my background is from India"
"Ahhh" at last a response that makes sense.
Give me an insolent and cheeky approach, and I'll give you one back (actual conversation):
>>"What do you mean where? I was born in Toronto. In a hospital. Not a mud hut"
> "What about your parents then. What nationality are they" he said with an exasperated expression.
>>"Well they have Canadian citizenship" I said calmly.
> "They're not from Canada though right?" he gives me the half-smirk with one raised eyebrow.
>>"They're not? Maybe the government gave them the wrong passport?"
> "I mean RACE" he spits out.
>>"Human..?"
> "Never mind."
>>"They came to Canada from India, if that's what you were trying to get at" I finally say, also with one raised eyebrow.
> "Oh ok. That's what I was asking."
>>"What about your family?"
> "Oh we're all Canadian"
>>"Then how is your last name 'Varadalos'?
This post could go on forever and it seems I've been writing it for that long. And the more I write, the more I censor. So I'm going to abruptly cut myself off here before I start delving into a number of other issues that start to spark in my mind when this topic comes up. The topic itseld has no obvious conclusion - it never will. In the end we have to figure out for ourselves how we're going to look at the world. Sorry for the lengthiness of the post.
1 Comments:
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Fortunately, as an adult, I haven't had that many problems. Maybe that's because I can spot certain people a mile away and I avoid them. I don't know. I was also one of the few Muslims that didn't have problems after 9/11. So, no, I rarely feel different. It usually only happens when I'm somewhere like a small country store or something like that. Somewhere a black hijabi would stick out like a sore thumb.
P.S. I've had that where are you from convo...you've just gotta shut down people like that.