There was a piece in today’s @globeandmail that I won’t link here but feel compelled to share my thoughts about with you all. Essentially, the author, who is a philosopher by discipline, argues that the term BIPOC is un-Canadian and should be replaced by the term FIVM. /1
FIVM is a term the author appears to have made up all by themselves to refer to Francophone, Indigenous, and Visible Minority populations. He writes that French Canadians were victimized by British Colonialism and deserve to be recognized. /2
The author lauds Canadian multiculturalism while stating,
“Canada has not sought to racialize what amount to ethnic differences among peoples.”
There are so many things wrong with this article. It is appalling that such a ridiculous piece was published.
/3
So I reflected why I had such a visceral reaction to. Is it because some dude made up an idea about us “Visible Minority” Canadians and tried to legitimize it? Is it his argument that it is Un-Canadian to acknowledge the pernicious nature of state sanctioned anti Black racism? /4
So here’s my rebuttal: the idea that Canada is a multicultural utopia is a LIE constructed and normalized to uphold and maintain a Canadian brand of racism that is uniquely violent and traumatizing for us “Visible Minority” Canadians. /5
The Canadian version of racism suggests that any mention of racism, particularly Anti Black racism is a direct threat to the identity that we have constructed as a defence mechanism to protect our fragile Canadian egos. /6
There are many scholars who have found through robust analysis that Canadians tend not to acknowledge racism within and prefer to point south of the Border instead. This tendency leads us to downplay racism in our midst, gaslighting “Visible Minority” Canadians on the daily. /7
If you would like to see how this works, look around at Canadian efforts to advance Equity in the past have failed to produce meaningful advancement for the “Visible Minority Canadians” who the author cares so much about that he feels so entitled to define our struggle. /8
Think hard about how we are reckoning with our racist PRESENT while pretending like it is our racist past. Think about how people like me are conditioned to remain quiet about our experiences lest we be told to “go back” to where we came for being “ungrateful” /9
So, fellow Canadians, what can we do? Let’s acknowledge that we have a choice. Do you want to help fight racism? Stop pretending like it doesn’t exist. Stop centring our guilt and our comfort. Let’s look in the mirror and stop pointing the finger south of the border. /END
PPS. If my thread makes you uncomfortable or you’d like to chat more, don’t grumble in silence...reach out to me for a real life conversation. You can find me if you want to. Now back to the game...
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Tonight I’m grappling with the joy of having my child vaccinated and the sorrow that comes with remembering every Indigenous child that was ripped from their family and suffered in silence at the hands of a genocidal system that continues to wreak havoc to this day.
I’m thinking of my ancestors from places like rural Punjab and Aligarh who fought against Colonialism while simultaneously benefitting from it. I’m wrestling with the tension from these revelations.
I’m struggling with an ambivalent mix of gratitude and grief. Of weight and unbearable lightness. Of wanting to re-emerge while simultaneously wanting to hide in isolation from a cruel and selfish world.
Here in Ontario, I have always believed school closures and openings should be decided at a local level based on the best science available. Every family is different and every kid is different. Here are my thoughts on the current situation as a child/adolescent psychiatrist...
The distances created by the pandemic have polarized our discourse about virtually everything. This polarization is dangerous and doesn’t bode well for the future. Instead of an obsession between opening versus closing how about we resist this narrative? /1
Every kid is different. Every family is different. Some kids are struggling with closures, but some kids are also thriving. Every kid learns differently. We should avoid a ‘one size fits all’ mentality and try to meet kids and families unique needs. /2
I never imagined that wishing and hoping and speaking up for peaceful coexistence in the midst of perennial conflict would become taboo. Yet, that is the state of our angry world.
I have a Muslim faith background. The events of 2001 shattered my sense of identity. In 2003, made a deliberate decision to move outside my comfortable existence and do something completely unexpected for someone like me: I moved to Israel.
I studied medicine at Ben-Gurion University in a unique program that focused on global health. I learned Hebrew and some broken Arabic. I volunteered in migrant clinics and with mobile clinics in Palestine with Physicians for Human Rights. This is me in Seida, near Tulkarm.
On the uses of anger, #AudreLorde 1981: “Anger expressed and translated into action in the service of our vision and our future is a liberating and strengthening act of clarification”
“for it is in the painful process of this translation that we identify who are our allies with whom we have grave differences, and who are our genuine enemies.”
“If I participate, knowingly or otherwise, in my sister's oppression and she calls me on it, to answer her anger with my own only blankets the substance of our exchange with reaction.”
A thread about you and I, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. About connection, and disconnection. About where we we want to go from here...
I tiptoed very tentatively into online discourse. Yet, quickly, I embraced how this platform provided a unique opportunity to connect with complete strangers and foster a sense of shared humanity.
There have been amazing moments of connection, and darker moments of hatred. I have grown tremendously as a person and professional. I have found a mechanism to amplify advocacy and fight for a better world. I have made real life friends that I treasure and cherish.
I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be an immigrant in Canada. The stark reality has become clear. Our labour matters more than our lives. Our humanity matters less than our subservience. Our silence is rewarded and our speaking up is discouraged.
Our fathers, mothers, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles work hard to ensure the comfort and well-being of their fellow Canadians, yet their well-being is not anyone’s priority. Canada opened her arms and welcomed them with a smile, only to turn her back to our pleas.
We work without benefits or leave, hoping one day our labour will pay off in a better life for our kids. Our kids become MDs and PhDs and are expected to be grateful for what Canada and Canadians bestowed on them.