I Endured Elementary, Survived High school and Escaped Saskatoon

A few of my friends have asked my opinion on the current situation in the US, noting that we don't have that problem here in Canada.  In some cases I have to make a choice between telling them the truth or keeping their friendship.  But I have to be true to myself and my students so here is my story - it will be hard for some of you to read.  I'm sorry but it's my truth ...

______________________________________________________

Most people would say they left home since that is where they grew up.

I escaped.

And I made 2 promises to myself;

1.  I would never live there again.

2.  I would never spend more than 2 weeks at a time there.

For the past 45 years those 2 promises kept me alive.  Most of the people I went to school with would not understand that.  To them I was a happy, caring, smiling and helpful guy.  In fact I was a lonely, sad, scared kid who just wanted friends but, who spent most of his time looking over his shoulder.

Not possible in such a nice non-judgmental, safe place you say.

As a kid I did not even notice that my family looked different from the other kids.  I did not notice the stares (that eventually sent my Aunt and Uncle back to Trinidad).  I barely understood why complete strangers would rub my head and say it was good luck (more for them than me I guess).  

I was too young to understand why we had to look at so many places to rent before we got one.  Turns out places would get rented within seconds of us walking up to the door, un-rented when we walked away.  And, then quickly rented to the next (white) person who walked up.  I did not understand that my mom finally got fed up and phoned first and told the people we were black to avoid the unnecessary trip.  Heck I did not get it in Grade 1 when one of the kids told me that "God made you black so you could be our slaves".

I got it when I was going to a schoolmates place in Grade, with all the other kids in my good Catholic school to play, and my host turned to me and said, "You can't come, my dad doesn't allow niggers in the house." (I never went to a party without a direct invitation after that - it came in Grade 11)

Yep, I got it then.

I finally understood why I was the last one picked for any team.  I finally saw the kids being pulled away by their parents when I went to join their game.  I understood later why I was singled out for special vitriol and anger from the other kids when anything went wrong, whether or not it was my fault.  

And I learned fear.  I learned that if I fought back, I got detention not the other person.  If a bunch of us threw crab apples, I was the one they would remember.  I learned that anything I did was discounted by 50% at its inception.

I switched schools while still in elementary.  There I learned that people could take my name away.  That I could be called "Black" and only "Black"as a name and no one would say a word in my defense.  I learned what it felt like to be too scared to go to school and to miss days because of it.

And I survived.

And I grew tough, and hard, and distant.  I learned to count on no one outside of my family.  I learned to laugh at black jokes, "Hey this is really funny but we don't mean you .."  To be silent when rude, racist things were said to me or about the native kids.  To not spend every day curled in a ball screaming.

Was it all bad.  No of course not, I found ways to be happy.  And there were people who were kind. Things to do to feel good about myself and eventually a group of folks that I could hang around with but, I knew I could not stay.  I needed to breathe.  I needed to live, and staying would kill me.

So I escaped.

I did not escape racism but at least I was able to start to speak up.  I learned that when someone says I don't belong here I can tell them that they don't either (unless they are aboriginal and they never say that stuff to me).  And to dedicate my life to helping others get through that kind of pain.  I learned to be free.  I learned how to be genuinely happy.  And, I learned how to not be afraid anymore.  Of course, I will probably always break into a cold sweat when I see a cop - I've been stopped so many times I go through a checklist in my head and then I hope for the best.

So I understand the anger.