19 02 17 issue 9 BHM

I wish I could tell you what gospel feels like It feels like our connection to lauryn’s roots It feels like beyonce's foundation like Mahalia Jackson's life like we are Kirk Franklin's success like Bob Marley's peace like we never had to be taught to praise like we were born to praise Our every breath IS God’s Glory I wish I could tell you what black history feels like It feels like the history I deserved to learn in my expensive private elementary school it feels like the chapter that talks about slavery and everyone looks back at you it feels like the small town poster child for blackness like why don’t any of my classmates look like me it feels like the greatest discovery, reading black history books in university for the first time it feels like a theatre full of people watching 12 years a slave It feels like getting angry allover again Black rage It feels like Malcolm's fight Like Bessy Coleman's fight Like Harriet Tubman staring in the face of death and saying "I do not fear you" We are living and breathing Martin’s dream It feels like lupita's Grammy It feels like OBAMA YES WE CAN That's how far we've come It feels like the Americas must thank us for our service It feels like success at our fingertips It feels like every day we live the life our ancestors died for Our greatness is our ancestor's vengeance It feels like the greatest confusion.

Like so… Jesus wasn’t white?

I wish I could tell you what black feels like It feels like racism even today Oppression today It feels like South African Apartheid Brought to Central Albertan Reserves Like “why are you clutching your purse as I walk by” Why is your child licking me to see if I’m chocolate Why do we have to talk about my hair AGAIN It feels like the greatest discomfort EVERYWHERE WE GO Like the first time I told my mom the racist jokes kids said at school thinking she would laugh like they did but she cried.

Re-living my nightmares in discussions to prove that racism still exists

written by rea-anna walters / photo by reashana walters / edit by enoch attey

"Your ghetto name needs spellcheck."

"Your hair looks like pubes" "You look like chocolate but you aren't sweet" "Oh! You're pretty for a black girl" "Your body is disproportionate‌" "One of these things is not like the other" The girls in my Seventh-day Adventist middle school spat in the afros of the black boys in front of us and I was terrified of my natural for 3 years It feels like "Oh my gosh you're so exotic" It feels like "that can't be your real hair" Itttt feels like: Can I TouNO YOU CANNOT TOUCH MY HAIR Drag your fingers through my roots searching for an answer to this unexplainable beauty It feels like the big chop Finally off that creamy Crack picking out my- fingers can't run through it-hair Staring at my ancestors' roots looking back at me in the mirror every day Can I just say something Finally our beautiful is recognized in the media It feels like white sympathizing bodies because they want to see It feels like the greatest accomplishment every day we come home It feels like the soil drenched from the tears of Trayvon's mother, Eric Garner's wife, Philando Castille's child, Sandra Anette Bland, Michael Brown Jr., Ezell Ford, Dante Parker, Tamir Rice It feels like the greatest accomplishment EVERY DAY we come home It feels like the side of me I was always afraid of because it brought me so much pain It feels like the deepest power because we know weak The greatest joy because we live hurt Crafting love because we were born in hate It feels like the melanin that makes me a part of you It feels like the pigmentation that brings me to the sun We bleed African womanhood, male kingship and queendom Like We cannot go through all of this and not be great Where we are not given opportunities, we take them They push, we push back They fight, we fight back Then celebrate harder.

Laugh louder Smile deeper And thrive sweeter than ever before It feels like looking at my mom everyday in the face and never being able to thank her.

For all of it. Strong as the strength of my immigrant father's bones.

It feels like.. all of this simultaneously It feels like you It feels like me It feels like us. Here Using our history to create our legacy OUR BLACK HISTORY feels like this fist up

The opinions, belief and viewpoints expressed by the various authors and interview participants do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of Burman University or its official policies or any affiliates. Each author sites his or her own words.

cover design by mark ebajo layout design by jacqui mccarty

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the stor y you never read [b.h.]

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black girl magic [a.l.]

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“these are their stories”: inter v iew w ith kev in burrell, [s.w.]

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the per fect blend [b.b]

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the whitest black girl [a.g.]

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ar t: black ar tists [z.m.]

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timeline [k.c.]

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unity through music [a.r.]

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our legac y of sur v ival [z.p.]

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forgetting to remember [d.m.]

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educate yourself [j.s.]

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trending now [r.z.]

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embarrassing stories [s.c.]

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i sur v ived… [j.b.]

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missions feature: i want to go [a.t.]

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fist bumps w ith jesus [a.c.]

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the school’s librar y [c.b.]

y r o t s i h k c a bl h t n o m

the story you

never read I’m black. I’ve always been aware of that because every time I look at my hands I notice that they have brown hues. I was always aware that my hair never fell to my shoulders when I let it out – rather it reached to the heavens (I’m thankful for that now).

I spent ten years of my life in a community of people like me. Most of us were of Caribbean decent, most of us were colored (more specifically black) and all of us had no idea that everything was against us. The building I called community – my school - was never meant to work for me. Our teachers, while we had some that believed in us, thought that we were never going to get anywhere. They labeled us, we were nothing. Just a bunch of ghetto children. Now that I think of it, I only started referring to Malton as a ghetto once I left. Maybe that’s because there is a label placed on anything remotely black. Our music, our hair, our choice of clothing – everything is ghetto because its not what those in power have deemed to be acceptable. And minorities buy into it. We buy into what they say. Throwing our own culture, our truths into the trash for someone else’s shewed worldview. I’m personally tired of that. I no longer look at Malton as that anymore. My view of Malton was the view I ultimately had of myself.

There I was, thirteen years of age in a new town that has proven me to be a minority. No longer am I in a community now I’m merely visiting a destination I’m not accepted in. I no longer fit in because I’m labeled.

br ittany hud s on

On my first day of school my new neighbour asked my brother and I to fight someone for him. Am I your bodyguard? Do I have a sign that states “just fight me”? For weeks white people would avoid making eye contact with me because they were scared. They feared what they didn’t know. Just like my teachers thought, I was nothing. Well maybe I should give those students more credit. I wasn’t totally nothing to them I was just not worth getting to know because my label was louder than words of my own reality.

The fictional story that everyone watched on T.V was good enough for them. I was a bad girl, a scary girl, a violent girl. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know what I was going through. They didn’t know I was scared every single day I had to walk into that building because I knew I couldn’t change my story.

I had panic attacks every single day because I didn’t know how to change what they thought.

For five years I learned how to talk like them, dress like them, I changed my hair so I could be like them but their perception of me never changed. I’m triggered by the fake story people read on my life. I’m tired of trying to rewrite their story. I just want them to stop reading the book. I want them to realize reality is better than fiction. I am more interesting than a newspaper headline or some conjured up statistic on black on black crime. My brothers aren’t attempting to break into your car or rape your wife. No, we are more. I’ve read my story. It’s better than yours.

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Black History Month started off as a week of celebration and was called ‘Negro History Week’. Carter G. Woodson, a Harvard educated historian, spearheaded this cause to raise awareness of black achievement in the USA. Fifty years later in 1976, the federal government granted permission for it to span the entire month of February. Canada was a bit late to the game when the Honourable Jean Augustine, Canada’s first black woman parliamentarian, made a motion for the government to finally recognize Black History Month in 1995. Senator Donald Oliver, the first black male Senate member, helped write this in stone in 2008. Black History Month isn’t a time to shame other cultures for their contribution to our setbacks. Rather, it is a time to celebrate how far we have come as a people and to encourage the younger generations to keep breaking down walls and exceeding expectations.

I remember the first time I felt uncomfortable in my skin. A group of friends were discussing different cultures represented in our town. One friend piped up with a ‘compliment’ for me. “I like that you’re not like other black girls here, Antonia. You’re so much easier to talk to and get along with. Those other black girls are so angry.” This gave way to another ‘compliment’ from a friend who said, “Yeah, Antonia’s not really black. She’s whitewashed.” It was the early 2000s and I was living in Lacombe, Alberta, surrounded by people who didn’t look like me. There were 3 other black families living there at the time and we had different journeys while walking a similar path of resistance.

In the coming years, Lacombe would have a serious awakening when it came to the representation and awareness in schools, churches, and public areas. One major area of contention was Black History Month.

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antonia law rence

BLACK GIRL

MAGIC

“Why do black people need an entire month to celebrate their culture?” “Ugh. Slavery ended forever ago. GET OVER IT.” “If we would all just stop talking about racism, it would just go away.” “Why do you people always pull the race card?” “Why don’t have a ‘White History Month’?”

We’ve heard it all, had the conversations, or backed away from ones that would’ve ended in fights. What is it about Black History Month, #blacklivesmatter, and black representation that has those on the outside turning up their noses or becoming keyboard warriors spewing hate online? When I raise my voice to say that my black life and representation matters, why is that an affront to you and your journey? I left Alberta with little to no sense of my black identity and it wasn’t until I was away for a few years that I really took hold of it and unapologetically embraced who I am. I started to stand up for myself and started to really listen to the plight of my people.

When BLM rooted itself north of the border, I found myself in the middle of heated debates about the relevancy of BLM in Canada. Many argued (and still do) that it isn’t relevant here because our crime rate isn’t as high as it is in the USA and that cops aren’t gunning down innocent black people, so what’s the big deal.

Canadian culture stands to benefit from this movement because it forces people to face the ugly truths in order to bring healing to our hurting nation. We are quick to compare ourselves to our American cousins and paint ourselves in a better light while ignoring the times we don’t live up to our all-inclusive cultural stereotypes. It’s time to stop hiding behind the cute ‘Canadianisms’ and politeness we are well known for and high time we start rallying behind and holding hands with those who need us and would fight for us without hesitation.

When the Black Lives Matter movement was born, it was not to put black people ahead of anyone else. Rather, it was to put us back on the map with everyone else who mattered. Young and old black men were being shot in the street and no one was fighting for them. Women were being forced out of their cars and homes, imprisoned, and dying in prison with no hearings. Was this new? No, but it was happening weekly now more people were speaking up against it. Compliance wasn’t working even though so many offered this as a solution along with their unsolicited advice on ‘how to avoid dying’ in police custody. The murders of these men and women started to look more and more like a manhunt and people had had enough.

BLM took to the streets, social media, and anywhere else they could be seen and heard. The push back from those who cried ‘All Lives Matter!’ was loud and attempted to drown out the voices of BLM and allies. Little did they know that more disenfranchised groups would join the voices of BLM and create their own chapters. They stood in solidarity with BLM while also casting a light on their own issues.

Racism and prejudice don’t always take form in violence and unlawful imprisonment. They manifested themselves in the many job interviews I had where the employer asked me multiple times about my background. “Are you the first in your family to graduate from university?” “Oh, YOU’RE Antonia Lawrence?”

Often accompanied by a triple take at my name and my face; confused that what I sounded like on the phone did not ‘match’ my skin tone. They took form in the strangers driving by me on the street and yelling the n-word at me and laughing as they drove away.

They played on the lips of friends and strangers who always had plenty to say when any violence happened in black communities. “See? It isn’t just police officers killing black people. They’re busy killing each other.”

When black people stand together to celebrate ‘Black Girl Magic’, ‘Black Excellence’, and ‘Black Boy Joy’, they stand strong and with outstretched arms because when they succeed, we all do.

THESE ARE THEIR STORIES Interview with Kevin Burrell

My ancestors were owned by the Burrells —a British slave-owning family.

They had hundreds of slaves in Jamaica. In 1833 when the British empire emancipated the slaves they paid these slave owners 20 million pounds (equivalent to billions of dollars today)—they paid the slave owners, not the slaves—as compensation for losing their labour force.

I begin my interview with Religious Studies professor Kevin Burrell by asking about his childhood.

Burrell: I grew up in Jamaica and became an Adventist at about ten years old. God led me to the church through some friends with whom I used to play cricket. They would talk about the mark of the beast and all those scary things. Eventually somebody invited my sister and me to the Adventist church. It was strange being there because I wasn’t used to all that kneeling, but we got used to it quickly, became involved in the church and in about a year I was baptized. My mother apparently was an Adventist at the time but I had no clue. She had left [for Canada] when I was four years old and I didn’t see her until ten years later. She said, “I was an Adventist too you know. You were dedicated in an Adventist church.” She had left the church, but because of me and my sister she came back.

When I was in Jamaica people used to invite me to churches to preach; everybody thought Kevin Burrell was going to be a pastor, but when I came to Canada I studied sciences. I graduated high school and enrolled in the human biology program at the University of Toronto because I wanted to be a medical doctor. Issues arose there, one of them my confrontation with creation-evolution, that led me to quit and start my own business.

Curiosity never left, and [ten years later] God said, “Time to go back to school;” so that’s when I came to CUC. I was used to academic rigour and did my best, so professors would say, “You should think about going into teaching.” I didn’t take it seriously for a while. I taught Sabbath school at the College Heights church and one day a gentleman came up to me and said, “You should think about doing your PhD and coming back to teach at CUC.” I said, “Sure.” He said, “I’m serious.” Dr. Herr was sitting near me and said, “You know who that man is? That’s our new president, Dr. Haynal. You should take him seriously.”

After doing his Masters at Trinity Western University in BC (on those “scary” beasts of Revelation that first sparked his interest in Jamaica years before), Mr. Burrell returned to Lacombe to teach at Burman while enrolled in a doctoral program. In what limited time you have as a doctoral student, what do you like to do?

I like working out at the gym, but that time is very much depleted these days. I love spending time with my family [wife, son 9, and daughter turning 7 this week].

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We go skating and tobogganing. I also speak at different local churches and camp meetings from time to time.

What is something you want every student who takes your classes to come away with?

The value of human beings as human beings—not as Black or white, upper class or lower class. Christianity in its message is an affront, a radical opposition to the value systems of this earth— hierarchies and categories. I want students to come away with an appreciation of humans in all their forms, their shapes, and their colours; that for me is Christianity in its essence.

That segues into your doctoral studies and the subject of this issue—Black History. Where would you like to start?

I’d like to start with the idea of Black history. I think it was just last month that Alberta recognized Black History as an official month. It raises the question: Why Black history in the first place? Why is it necessary? When we talk about Black history we aren’t necessarily talking about Black history in Tanzania; we’re talking about Black History in the western world. The emphasis on Black history is necessary because of the legacy of slavery; it’s palpable and remains a powerful social, political, and economic factor in our society whether we’re Americans or Canadians.

One of the prevailing stereotypes is “What contributions have Black people made to society? They’ve been more of a burden.”

That legacy remains, whether explicit or implicit. [One] aspect of Black history arose out of Black people wanting to say, “Look at where we’ve come from, fighting for our freedoms, attaining freedoms far more than our ancestors had. We’ve made contributions to human progress, to technological advances.” Black people want to say, “Yes, we’ve made that,” so most of the time when we talk about Black history we talk about Black history post-slavery, as if there was no history of Black people before the slave trade and coming to the western world. That is, for me, problematic. Black history did not begin post-slavery; it’s as old as humanity. There is baggage just wearing this colour skin that most people are unconscious of. I’ll give you a simple example: What is your last name? Wallace. If you trace Wallace probably back to Scotland, you can trace your ancestry for generations. On the other hand, my name is Burrell. Where do I trace my name? I trace my name to 1833. My ancestors were owned by the Burrells —a British slave-owning family. They had hundreds of slaves in Jamaica. In 1833 when the British empire emancipated the slaves they paid these slave owners 20 million pounds (equivalent to billions of dollars today)—they paid the slave owners, not the

slaves—as compensation for losing their labour force. So, when we’re talking about legacies, I bear the name of my slave owners.

My children bear the name of those who owned their ancestors.

Another problem with Black history is the notion of Black. It’s an exceptionally reductionist notion. It assumes that all Black peoples share monolithic culture, ethnicity, biology, and legacy. Lumping people together is a mechanism of control. When scholars come across people that are evidently Black in the Bible they are typically cast as slaves or in an inferior position because we import our modern perception into the Biblical world.

Could you provide an example?

One example that comes to mind is Abimelech who is with Jeremiah in the court of Zedekiah. He’s often seen as just a slave because he’s out of his element in Jerusalem when he’s supposed to be in Africa. Instead, as servant of the king he has tremendous power. He can advocate on behalf of Jeremiah to get him released from prison. Israel is a protectorate of the Cushites who were ruling over Egypt. Abimelech is perhaps a diplomat from Cush. If you look at Genesis chapter ten where the descendants of Noah are enumerated, you find the Cushites are the starters of civilization. The biblical world was far more diverse than we imagine.

How would you propose we begin to change the discourse from the tendency to make Black history into a monolith?

I think it [Black History Month] is a good start and I support the idea of it. There are numerous social and economic factors that play into some of the disparities we see in things like college outcomes, so I think it’s a good thing to start by acknowledging Black history and the legacy of slavery. Think about it: The United States of America established the first colony in 1606; by 1619 the first group of Black slaves came to the United States. As a prominent white scholar has said in a book called The Half Has Never Been Told, the US owes so much economically to that first labour force of Black slaves. The western world was built on slave labour. People forget it was Christians who did this—Catholic and Protestant—because they envisioned themselves as the new Israel whom God had mandated to destroy these [Indigenous] “Canaanites” and in the process, bring African slaves to build an economic advantage.

I’ll be presenting a paper at Concordia University in a few weeks about the Reformation from the perspective of the Indigenous peoples of the world. The Reformation is a European cultural phenomenon. For Indigenous peoples, the results were the same whether it was Protestants they encountered or Catholics.

In the letters patent [through which European monarchs laid claim to other lands] it was said that no wars should be made against Christian princes, but against the infidels—Indigenous peoples—there were just wars. It’s a permutation of slavery we don’t even recognize.

The kingdom of heaven is all about justice. The prophetic message was always about the stranger, the poor, the widow—those who are at the edges, the periphery of society. Israel went into exile because of their injustices against the weakest in their midst.

There seems to be this idea among some Christians that people on the margins are there because they’ve done something wrong, so we have the right to ensure that we get our reward for being hard workers, even if our votes or actions hurt the marginalized.

Absolutely. The idea of the Protestant ethic: material blessing is an indication in our minds of God’s favor. We have a sense of entitlement: “This is our land; we have fought for it and we deserve our rewards.” We fail to remember those we have trampled upon in the process. We have rhetoric of civil rights, but the praxis is largely absent.

When I ask for some recommended reading on the legacies of imperial oppression and racism, Mr. Burrell mentions several texts including Lords of All the World by Anthony Pagden and Canada’s Forgotten Slaves by Marcel Trudel. “We can only speak informedly when we know the past,” Mr. Burrel reminds me, so I take the opportunity to ask about the Adventist inheritance of the legacies of oppression.

As Adventists, we should recognize that we have never been immune from the assumptions and cultural baggage that come with a larger narrative. The creation of the separate Black and white conferences in the US is one example. A woman who looked white but had a certain percentage of Black blood was admitted to the Adventist hospital. Subsequently, they found out she was Black and sent her to the state hospital, which was an hour away, and she died on route. For our Adventist brethren that was the turning point.

The church is a microcosm of the larger society. Unfortunately, the message of Christ has not come through powerfully enough for us to examine our ways and alter them significantly. At the end of the day, we as Adventists must be historically conscious and aware of what we mean by “conquering the world for Christ.”

This is a call to look with humility and attention at our words, legacies, and actions that is perhaps the most important decision we can make as Christians, as members of an intellectual community, and as citizens of the world.

sarah wallace

The perfect blend “For you, black history month ends on the 14th.”

To be biracial. Never enough, yet somehow always one drop too much. To always be the minority. To do your very best to blend in and fall just enough under the radar so you’re not found out to be an imposter. To feel a strong bond with complete strangers simply because when you look at them and they look back at you, you both feel a connection.

When I was little life was great, I grew up around my white family and they always would complement me on my big brown eyes, my thick black curly hair and my naturally tanned skin. They taught me that I was beautiful. It wasn’t till grade 5 that I realized I was different. I switched schools and suddenly I was no longer Breeann but instead “the black kid”. No big deal right. Wrong!

The jokes started, all the racist jokes, and the stereotyping. All I had to do was play basketball and wear braids and suddenly I was an exhibition. I even had a teacher come to me and announce that she was dating a black guy so she could have kids that looked like me. I had to take extreme measures, do anything I could to somehow fade in. Simplest solution: straighten (relaxed) my hair, and avoid bringing curry for lunch.

This camouflage held up for a few years. People thought I was beautiful, with my long straight hair and natural tan. I was just like everyone else. This didn’t last. Mandatory swimming class caused all my hair to break off, and my parents split. When my parents divorced my uncle (a police officer from Jamaica) moved in with us.

Between having my black mom and uncle at home, and being forced to wear my hair natural, I made this sudden discovery: It was cool to be black! So as any good camouflage artist does, I quickly went into overkill: wearing braids, playing ball, listening to rap, bringing bun and cheese for lunch, anything I could do to appear more black. Did people like me more? No. But did I fit in with the other black kids? Yes. Finally I belonged.

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Convinced that I was black I started to pay more attention to racism and hate crimes. Then I got put in my place. My mom said “You will never understand the struggle of a black woman!” I was rather shocked, as this whole time I really thought I was a “black woman”. If I am not white, and I can’t be black, what in the world am I? This is a point I think every mixed race kid reaches.

That sudden moment where you realize that you actually can’t claim a side.

Just when you thought you were fitting in and then suddenly someone points out the size of your lips or the texture of your hair. This is where it stopped for me. I came to define myself. To be mixed is to be unique and to accept that you will always be the minority. In a crowd of black people, you are the white one and in a crowd of white people you are the black one (basically how family reunions feel). But just because you are on team minority doesn’t mean that you should sit silent, or disclaim your other half. Everyday mixed people are just living their lives. No one see Barack Obama as not black enough to be considered as the first black president. So long as I am both black and white, I have a right to fight and claim all of my identity.

So even though I may not be able to control what you see when you look at me or any other mixed race person, I can control what I see when I look in the mirror. Most people will never understand what it’s like to realize that you cannot claim to be equal to your parents. To have no one to teach you to be proud of who you are, because they’ve never seen the world through your eyes. The rejection, the constant pressure to be something you’re not. It is only when you accept yourself that you find true peace. So when I see another biracial person and I feel a connection it's like finally realizing that I am not alone and that there are others who have had to search for their identity just as I have.

breeann burg hardt

the whitest black girl

Hai! My name is Ambra Greaves. I’m 5 feet, and 3.5 inches tall. My favourite colour is constantly changing, my secret (not-so-secret) is I cry a lot; and I am the whitest black girl.

I was raised in Barrie Ontario, and for the longest time I was the only black girl in my class. If you were to look in my mom’s box of awkward class photos, you would see the lone black girl in the middle back row towering over all the kids until about grade 6 where I permanently remained the same height for the next 12 years. In grade 7, a mixed girl named Amber transferred into my class and I was so excited to finally not be the only black girl. I made it my mission to befriend her, but that didn’t exactly work out because we had zero things in common …. I mean…. I role-played Sonic characters at recess with my friends in the grade lower than mine. She liked makeup and boys. It was what it was.

Fast forward to high school where in an attempt to make more melanin-toned friends I joined the Black History Month club, and promptly became aware of my situation: I didn’t know anything about being black. Somehow my lack of interest in a group called “Mindless Behavior” (?) meant my blackness was unofficial. I didn’t have BET on my TV. My wardrobe did not contain just enough black and gold. I could not (and still can’t) braid hair to save my life.

ambra greaves

My main conversations were anime, video games, and computers. BLACK GIRL CARD REVOKED. One of the girls in Black History Month club, the leader, would never look in my direction when she had to speak to me. As soon as the club was over most of them never talked to me again, save for the few girls who told me about Tréy Songs. Then I moved to Alberta where I became one of two black girls in my graduating class. Go figure.

It was not until I got to university and found myself, lost a number of friends, and then gained some new ones, that I came to a conclusion: no amount of knowing all of the lyrics to a 50 Cent song will make me any more or less black. Perpetuating this idea that our “blackness” and acceptance of other black people will depend on the music we listen to or how we dress is irrelevant to our experience. No amount of light skin or dark skin wars will make them respect us when we are willing to disrespect each other for the amount of pigment in our sister’s skin. When I walk into a store and the white lady follows me into the Guess purse section they don’t think to themselves “She likes Evanescence, she’s not a thug”. They see my skin and they treat me the same as any other black person. I am black because I will be one of less than 10 people in my whole family to be privileged enough to receive an undergrad. I am black because I have to consider chemically burning my scalp to be taken seriously in a job interview. I am black because my ancestors traveled across the ocean to Barbados on a boat with chains.

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art surfing

// b l a c k a r t i s t s

As a child I loved the books in our home library with children that had the same skin tone as my brother and I. There weren’t many but my parents believed that it was our right to show us that we were represented. Now that I’m older I still have the “eye” to be represented. I love seeing contemporary art within my black community, and what better place to exhibit it than on Instagram. Many artist’s young and old put their most cherished pieces on this site, and believe me they are absolutely stunning. Here are just a small few of my favorites. If you love these works of art check out a major facilitator @supportblackart , and make sure to follow these gifted artists as well.

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The year is 1625.

The first ship full of African slaves arrives in America. They have just endured a 7-week journey filled with inhumane treatment and abuses of all kinds, extreme starvation and densely packed living spaces. They have forcibly been taken from Africa, torn apart from their friends, families and their homes. They are now sold as slaves.

The year is 1660. Slavery is recognized as completely legal throughout all of British America. Colonies implement slave laws designed to restrict liberty of slaves and protect slavery as an institution.

The year is 1808. Slaves have spent the last century rebelling

and fighting for their rights. They continue to do so. Congress bans any further importation of African slaves.

The year is 1861. The civil war begins. The Underground

TIMELINE

Railroad is in full swing and many black and white people are fighting for freedom and the abolishment of slavery.

The year is 1865. The 13th amendment is passed abolishing slavery in the United States.

The year is still 1865. “Black Codes” are put into place to

restrict the rights and freedoms of newly free black people.

They varied from state to state in harshness, but the overall effect of them was to ensure that black people remained separated from white society.

The year is 1870. The 15th amendment is ratified which gives black people the right to vote. This right isn’t fully realized until almost 100 years later due to the use of poll taxes, literacy tests and other such means. Many Southern states are able to disenfranchise black people.

The year is 1896. The supreme court decides that racial

segregation is constitutional, on the grounds that black and white people would remain “separate but equal”. This leads to the Jim Crow laws; segregating all parts of society between white and black people and ensuring that black institutions were often of inferior quality.

The year is 1931. The infamous story of the Scottsboro Boys

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kaylie copeland

is big in the news. 9 black teenagers are attacked by a group of white boys on a train and then accused of raping two white girls and instigating the previous attack. They were denied access to a fair trial and fair legal representation and sentenced to death. There was medical evidence that suggested they had not committed the crime and the ladies later admitted to fabricating the rape story. They are retried three different times, still without fair representation and trials. Finally, four of the teenagers are free and five sentenced to long term prisons sentences.

The year is 1955. Emmett Till whistles at a white wom-

an and is brutally murdered and dumped in a river, his body barely identifiable. Two white men admit to murdering him but are acquitted by their all white jury. Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat. Her arrest leads the black community to boycott buses, and eventually leads to the end of bus segregation.

The year is 1962. James Meredith is the first black student to attend the University of Mississippi. Riots break out and President Kennedy sends 5,000 troops to calm things down.

The Year is 1963. Martin Luther King is arrested during

anti-segregation protests. Later, he gives his “I Have a Dream” speech. A church known for being a center of the civil rights movement is bombed; killing four black girls and injuring 20 other people. Three white supremacists were under investigation but their cases are dropped until years later. It isn’t until 2002 that the last bomber is finally sentenced to life in prison.

The year is 1964. The civil rights movement is passed

prohibiting discrimination based on race, color, religion or national origin. Three civil rights activists (one white man, one black man and one Jewish man) are arrested on bogus charges, and then released to the KKK who beat and murdered them. It isn’t until 2005 that the person who orchestrated the killings was charged with three counts of murder. The jury decided against arresting the other 18 suspects involved in their killings.

The year is 1965. The Voting Rights Act is passed. It is now

illegal to use poll taxes and literacy tests to restrict black people from voting. It has taken 95 years for the fifteenth amendment to actually be implemented.

The year is 1992. Rodney King is beaten by 7 police officers

after a high-speed car chase. He was tasered twice, beaten with a baton, and kicked violently and repeatedly. A witness films the incident and sends it to local news stations where it is aired publicly. 3 of the 7 officers are acquitted which sparks the Los Angeles riots in which 55 people are killed and 2,000 people are injured fighting for justice and an end to police brutality against minorities.

The year is 2009. Barack Obama becomes the first Afri-

can-American president. Later this year Shem Walker, an unarmed black man, is shot by a police with no repercussions for the officer. Oscar Grant is laying face down on the cement when he is shot by a police officer. The officer is sentenced to two years in prison but ends up serving less than a year.

Victor Sheen is run over by a police officer who then plants a gun on the 17 year old boy. The Justice Department’s Bureau of Justice Statistics released a report on arrest-related deaths involving law enforcement between 2003 and 2009. A rough calculation based on the data released states that black people are four times as likely to die in custody (due to police abuse or negligence) than whites.

The year is 2012. Their names are Ramarley Graham, Raymond Allen, Dante Price, Nehemiah Dillard, Wendell Allen, Shareese Francis, Rekia Boyd, Kendrec McDade, Ervin Jefferson, Tamon Robinson, Sharmel Edwards, Shantel Davis, Chavis Carter, Reynaldo Cuevas, Johnnie Kamahi.

The year is 2014. Michael Brown is shot and killed. The

police hold a press conference stating that he was reaching for the officers gun and thus his death was justified. Many witnesses say he was shot with his hands up in surrender.

Protests ensue and the governor declares a state of emergency in Ferguson. Darren Wilson’s name is soon released as the officer responsible but he is not charged. The US Department of Justice releases a report that states that the police department in Ferguson hold a deeply ingrained culture of racism and that it targeted black people for arrests, fines and jail.

McKenzie Cochran, another unarmed black man, is killed by security guards in a mall. His death is captured via bystanders and he is heard repeatedly saying, “I can’t breathe” to his captors. He is told to “stop resisting” and dies of compression asphyxiation which prevented him from breathing, just as he said. Eric Garner is selling loose cigarettes when he is approached by a swarm of officers and put into a chokehold.

He tells police officers “I can’t breathe” ELEVEN times before he dies that way.

The year is now 2017. As the years progress, more names

are added to the list of those murdered. The reasons often differ; “He was armed”, “I was scared for my own safety”, “I didn’t mean to”. The commonality individuals share is the color of their skin. The list goes on. It goes on and on. It’s still going and it’s 2017. Last year, young black people faced the highest rates of police killings with over 250 deaths. The year before that, there were 1, 745 anti-black crimes reported which greatly outnumbered any other hate crimes against other minorities (or even against whites). These numbers don’t account for the racial slurs people of color face, nor do these numbers account for the way in which racism is systematically ingrained into our society. The year is 2017. The argument that racism ended in 1865 when slavery was abolished or that it ended in 1964 when the civil rights movement was passed is an invalid argument. The year is 2017 and it’s still here; it still exists today.

It is 2017, we need to continue moving forward instead of pretending the problem does not exist.

It is 2017.

Most information taken from: Brunner, Borgna. 2000. Timeline: Key Moments in Black History. www. infoplease.com/spot/bhmtimeline.html Other information taken from: www.nps.gov/saga/learn/education/upload/African%20American%20History%20Timeline.pdf, www.encyclopedia.com/history/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/africans-arrive-virginia-1619, www.blackpast.org/timelines/african-american-history-timeline-1600-1700, www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/disp_textbook.cfm?smtid=2&psid=446, www. mtholyoke.edu/~kmporter/slaverytimeline.htm, www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/scottsboro/filmmore/pt.html, gawker.com/unarmed-people-of-color-killed-by-police-1999-2014-1666672349, www.telegraph. co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/11242108/Ferguson-timeline-of-events-since-MichaelBrowns-death.html, www.nytimes.com/2015/06/14/nyregion/eric-garner-police-chokehold-staten-island.html?_r, www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/08/police-shootings-ferguson-race-data, new.www. huffingtonpost.com/entry/black-people-killed-by-police-america_us_577da633e4b0c590f7e7fb17, www.news4jax.com/news/local/jacksonville/jso-investigating-police-involved-incident-in-northwest-jacksonville_

UNITY TH One of the most interesting things about history is the stories of the people, legends, communities, and societies. Stories of heroes and also villains. For many these stories are best told with a pen and paper, for others their stories were best told with a paint brush and canvas.

It is through art that we find our truths bare, and blunt for all to see. It through art that we are able to convey our struggle and our pain. It through art that we rejoice, and sing praises for our victories. It is through music that we hear the untold stories of our ancestors. It is through art that we able to understand the struggles of today and yesterday.

It is through art that Abel Meerpol was able to convey to America his distaste for the racial climate of America in the sixties. The writer Metropol, wrote the well- known song “Strange Fruit”. This song was eloquently executed by the popular Jazz artist Billie Holiday. Metropol’s “Strange Fruit” is still being used as a means of storytelling. Jill Scott recently sang this song leaving her audience with chills due to her vocals, and poetry found in the lyrics. Music was not used to tell untold stories.

But it was used to give young black people a pride and confidence about themselves.

Throughout American History we see black artist writing songs that inspire one another. The world renowned artist, James Brown is most noted for his dance moves, and eccentric stage presence. An anthem of his, “Say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud’ continues to be used to inspire and motivate black America. Many still believe that Beyoncé is the first artist to write songs for the young and black in America however when we analyze the history of black music the roots run deep and far reaching throughout Black history. We remember people like Bob Marley whose music transcended Jamaica- the Caribbean unto the rest of the world. His lyrics powerful and bathed in themes of social justice, equality and freedom.

It is through artist like Nina Simone, Ray Charles, Mahalia Jackson and many more that artist of today have the platforms to speak freely about race. Music did not only bring people of the same color together but it also brought audiences of mixed races together. Artist like the Supremes, and The Temptations reached popularity during a dark time in African American History. The Jim crow laws prohibited those of color to interact with whites, lets alone be in the same room as them.

Barry Gordy one of the founders of Motown Records.

Motown Records was not only the label who produced records for the Supremes and Temptations but was also the home of many other Black Acts. Many black artists of this time struggled with seeing their audiences separated. Barry Gordy used music to “Cross Over” and better integrate the black and white communities.

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ROUGH MUSIC In the sixties many white artists would take songs from black artists and make it their own. Barry Gordy recognized this and gave his artist the idea and support to do the same to “rock and roll” songs. The Supremes would create their own renditions of “I want to hold your hand” by the Beatles. This gave black artist a whole new audience, which in turn created new opportunities for those considered opposing groups to be in the same room. For a couple of hours’ blacks and white`s desired to be in the same room, for the same purpose. It`s is through music that segregation was silenced even just for a moment.

Our history allows for us to have the confidence and platforms to make history yet again. Just as Black History doesn’t end with Marcus Garvey, Martin Luter King and Malcom X. Black groundbreaking music does not end with James Brown, Billie Holiday, and Bob Marley. Let us support artists who strive to empower and ignite a flame in us. Let’s let artist like Kendrick Lamar, Wale, J Cole tell the untold stories of our young black men. Let’s allow Beyoncé ignite a pride in the young women. For it is through these artists that I have begun to learn and love our story.

It`s is through music that segregation was silenced even just for a moment.

ashleigh rosary

OUR LEGACY OF SURVIVAL

18

“All that your ancestors had to go through for you to be here… and you doubt yourself? How dare you. You are of a legacy of survival that is to never be questioned.”

Bolajoko Collins

Growing up in the Caribbean island of St Vincent and the Grenadines, slavery has always been a consistent topic of learning. Despite attaining knowledge from family and my environment, I never truly understood the suffering my ancestors had to endure or the sacrifices they made. In order for my generation to live the life, the wanted to but were unable to. As a child I never thought of slavery and yet celebrated Heritage month and National Heroes Day without knowing the meaning behind it. However, visiting the sights of past plantations, the sugar cane tunnel--dug by slaves to transport goods onto ships at Black Point. As well as Fort Charlotte, the British Fort, whose canons pointed inland, at my people as they fought for their freedom. It was at this site where my country’s national hero Joseph Chatoyer, the Garifuna’s (native inhabitant) leader died marching his army against the British on March 14th 1795, against the injustice of African slaves on the island. It wasn’t until 10 years later that I truly started to see these figures as people, rather than history dates I had to memorize. People who struggled to maintain themselves, their identity and their freedom at all cost.

Today, one topic that is rarely touched upon in the media regarding slavery, is religion. More specifically, I’m talking about African religions. Stereotypically, when referring to African religions voodoo dolls and other methods of sorcery come to mind. Though there is some truth to it, the region of West Africa was home to many religions, including Islamic traditions and Christianity and even Judaism. However, the vast majority of slaves at the time had religions that were animistic in nature but in understanding African religions we must first understand where some of the negative connotations of African religion originated.

Slaves brought from West Africa, of various cultural backgrounds, languages and religions. They had lost everything that made them who they were and were forced to start anew. It was through their struggle to survive that many created new religions to continue being who they were even if it meant death upon discovery. They relied on these religions for medicine and protection. It was through these religions that many rebellions sprung.

As a countermeasure against this, the fear and propaganda of these religions spread from the slave masters, as the effects of these religions affected their way of life, profit and threatened the stability of slavery within the island. To prevent this, many of the slave owners began converting their slaves to Christianity, outlawing African religions within the region and putting to death all who dear to defy believing this would quell any rebellions.

Many converted, others hid their practices under the guise of worshipping Christianity but regardless of the personal choices made by the individual, every slave within the land had to sacrifice apart of themselves in order to survive. In honoring our ancestors and sacrifices we must always honor the choices our ancestors fought for the right to make and this includes the fight for their religious freedom. Hati, despite being the unfortunate victim of many poor and witchcraft jokes within media and other islands, was the most successful rebellion and the only Caribbean island to successful end slavery within their country on their own terms.

Bussa, a Barbadian National hero who fought for the freedom of his people bravely and despite his death at the hands of the British army. His sacrifice paved the way for abolitionists movements in the future. Jamaica’s national hero Queen Nanny of the Maroons, a proud user of African faith, organized plans to free slaves and freed up to 1000 slaves within Jamaica before her death. The reason I am bringing up African faith isn’t to “convert” anyone, or to suggest that practicing Christianity as a black individual is wrong. Not in the slightest, as I mentioned before, there was some places within West Africa where Christianity thrived. I am however, bringing this up to eliminate the stigma behind many African faiths as being “dark” and “evil” by default.

As black people, every aspect of our existence, from the way we dress, talk, sing and dance is often seen as vulgar, dirty, evil and violent and it surprises me not our native religions have undergone the same stigma. Understand that many slaves turned to African spiritual leaders, for medicine, healing, spiritual guidance and strength during times more difficult than words could describe. They were the doctors, lawyers, leaders and warriors of their time. Any faith has the capacity for evil but the actions of few do not represent religions as a whole. Our people were not backwards and faithless but moved mountains with their faith and persevered in circumstances where it was much easier to give up than to fight. I may not know much about American or even Canadian Black history but I know our ancestors no matter where they were fought for their freedom so that the next generation can have peace. Our first responsibility as people of God is to fight against injustice just as our ancestors had done before us.

zorisha peters

We have nothing to fear for the future, except as we shall forget the way the Lord has led us, and His teaching in our past history.

- Ellen White I remember when I first saw the location of where Martin Luther King Jr was shot. It was on an outing in Memphis Tennessee next to the National Civil Rights Museum. I think that was the pinnacle moment for me when my passion for history grew. I got to see a piece of real American history with my own two eyes. All my life, I only heard about his assassination but to actually see where his death took place really instilled my passion for knowledge of the past.

However, history is something not many people take too seriously. Perhaps it is the way it has been taught but when one really thinks about it, it is fundamental to our future. Many people had to die to get to where we are as a society. Our society may not be perfect, but because men and women fought for equal rights so we can all be one, it has become superior than before. I dare not to think of what would have happened if Rosa Parks did not give up her seat on that bus that fateful day or the movement of the freedom riders that challenged the status quo because they wanted to end segregation on buses.

Black History Month gives us a chance to remember what it took to get to where we are now. It seems like a million years ago when black people had separate bathrooms, separate movie theaters and separate hospitals where their healthcare was basically subpar since they were already treated as less than humans to begin with. However, it is still pretty recent, only fifty-three years since the Civil Rights Act in 1964 that eneded segregation. Slavery was abolished in America in 1865. But people of colour were not given equal rights until 1964. So essentially for ninety-nine years, black people were treated as sub-humans in the southern part of the United States.

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FORGETTING TO REMEMBER There is an interesting reason as to why that was the case. For many years, the southern part of the United States was the richest on account of the slaves. Many families would live in grand plantations on the because of the free labour that they had. But when the war ended, all of that ended for them. Hence, many of the people from the south are still bitter to this day with plenty of the Confederate flags still visible in a form of a car decal or hung on a flag pole. Those types of people forgot what happened in history. Either failing to remember that the Confederate flag was once used as a symbol of hate to dehumanize a group of people or still holding resentment to a once glorious south wealthy from the oppression of black people.

We must not forget what the past has taught us. In fact, we can glean many lessons from the people who have gone before us or from events of recent history. Many people died for what they truly believed in so that way we can all live the life that we were meant to live. If history has taught us a thing or two, is that we were all created equal in the eyes of God. Therefore, if a set of people are being persecuted for their religion of their skin tone, it is up to us to defend them. We owe it to the ones who did it for us in the past. It’s time that we do the same as well.

debbie mas ela

___ _________________________________

If someone were to ask me what classes influenced me the most, ENGL 272 Survey of British Literature II would be on the top of that list. When I took this class, it was a semester when we were short on English professors, so by some wonderful chance the person who taught us was an eclectic and intelligent teacher.

Yes, we learned about

Jane Austen

William Wordsworth

the famous WWI poem, “Dulce et Decorem Est”

the Romantics and their strange addiction to the sublime to

all the frills of the Victorian era

but we were also exposed to

Emma Watson’s UN speech

a comedy-drama film, “Rosencrantz & Guilden

stern Are Dead” and lastly,

Hogwart’s School Song.

Hogwarts is the (unfortunately) fictional school of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They are, quite literally, magical.

Amuse yourself for a moment with the lyrics to their school song: Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald, Or young with scabby knees, Our heads could do with filling, With some interesting stuff, For now they’re bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we’ve forgot, Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot.

J.K. Rowling, the writer behind these children’s books, is deeply invested in education. She realizes the significance of educating yourself. Before I continue, a quick little anecdote about my ignorance in middle school.

I went to a school that had a good and almost equal mix of Asians and white people. However, we didn’t have very many black classmates. In fact, we probably only had one or two classmates. One was a girl. She was brilliant. A modern-day Hermione (you’ll get it if you’ve read the series). Her family was from Kenya, and she was the first person to tell me straight up that Africa actually had big cities (I know—it’s okay to feel hardcore secondhand embarrassment for me). She was the first person I heard who said the phrase, “I just had my hair relaxed.” Whatever that meant.

educate yourself

But it wasn’t just whatever. Looking back I cringe at how little I knew about my friend and her race, her culture, her identity.

Whatever you are… whether you are “old and bald, [o]r young with scabby knees”, you, me, all of us could always do with some “filling” in our heads that are “bare and full of air.” The danger is when we become content with the “air”, the “[d]ead flies and bits of fluff.” Bits of fluff does not incite belonging.

I believe I’ve come a long way from middle school to a university that sings the anthems of “unity in diversity” or “a shift to a greater community”. I’ve developed my own personal absolutes around the prevailing theme of the love that Christ shows. One absolute is one that I know J.K. Rowling shares with me and that is the need to educate yourself.

Continually fill your mind with things worth knowing.

Do not be middle school Jenn. If you think you’ve heard it all, learned it all, seen it all, you might just miss out on the rich opportunity of learning about, of standing with, and of loving fully someone who, although vastly different than you, will enrich your life and will teach you things until your “brain[…] all rot[s]”.

This is why I love to study literature—the arts and humanities. Why I am so thankful for powerful women like J.K. Rowling who write about ideals. It is shockingly easy to be destructive and harmful. To just say “whatever” to the hurt, to things we don’t care enough to know more about. This is the broad road. What is much harder to do, and we are partly called to do this—to be a part of Christ’s good news, is to act in a way that brings goodness, beauty, and light in the world.

So I challenge you to learn until your “brain rots”. Because the more we delve into knowing each other—our stories, what makes us, us—I would like to think that we will be less likely to be tempted to hurt, to destroy, to say “whatever.”

j ennica s anatomin

21

TRENDING

NOW

MUSIC

The Grammy’s The years’ most anticipated and prestigious music awards show was a bit of a mixed basket this year. Frank Ocean made a bit of a deal about hating them, Chance the Rapper took the spotlight, and Adele gave her spotlight to Beyoncé. To unravel these statements a bit, Frank Ocean made a post on Tumblr post in the days approaching The Grammy’s announcing his frustration with the awards show in years past and made it clear that he would not be attending. This statement followed his choice to not submit his album Blonde that people waited what felt like an eternity for. As for Chance the Rapper, he took the Grammy’s to church with his God-centered Coloring Book medley in which he brought out gospel mogul Kirk Franklin with the help of Tamela Mann and Francis and the Lights. Outside of his performance that undoubtedly gave me goose bumps, he took home the prestigious awards of Best New Artist and Best Rap Album for his latest album Coloring Book, beating out Kanye West and Drake in the process. Through this he became the first artist to ever win Best New Artist without being signed to a music label. As for the biggest award of the night, Album of the Year went to Adele for her album 25, capping off her night with five Grammys. Adele beat out Beyoncé’s Lemonade to take home the award, which Adele was not very happy about as she said in her emotionally-charged acceptance speech, “I can’t possibly accept this award, and I’m very humbled and I’m very grateful and gracious, but my artist of my life is Beyoncé, and this album for me, the Lemonade album, was just so monumental.” This is Beyoncé’s third nomination and loss for the coveted Album of the Year, however, she did walk away with a couple consolation prizes for Best Urban Contemporary and Best Music Video for “Formation”. No matter what, she’ll always be Queen Bey.

22

MOVIES

Hidden Figures I walked into Hidden Figures not expecting much, but walked out with tears in my eyes. I can’t promise that it will make everyone cry, but this story just had what it takes to make me tear up four or five times.

It’s the story of three African-American women and their careers at NASA. Katherine G. Johnson (Taraji P. Henson), Dorothy Vaughan (Octavia Spencer), and Mary Jackson (Janelle Monáe), broke the barriers of gender and race to become the brains behind sending the first American into orbit around the earth in 1962, an event that gave NASA the footing it needed to become the space program it is today.

They started out at NASA as “computers” then made their way up the ranks. Katherine G. Johnson’s story inspired me the most, she ignored the racial barriers in place and did her best work against all odds. She had the answers to get the job done that the engineers she worked for didn’t. She was assertive and made sure her voice was heard, and it was. They did this in a time when white-males dominated the work force, and black people were not given the time of day in society. A quote I recently came across by American poet Shel Silverstein reads, “Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossible, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...Anything can happen, child.

Anything can be.” What those three women did was nothing short of inspiring, they decided to ignore what society said and proved that anything truly can happen. Go see Hidden Figures, you won’t regret it.

Regan Zap

T H A T O N E T I M E I WA S CALLED CRAZY I have a habit of talking to myself out loud, and I am proud of it because they say that the smartest people in the world talk to themselves #AlbertEinstein. Sometimes it confuses the people who are watching me because my lips are moving and I’m only whispering, which causes me to look like a crazy woman.

Talking to myself has become so natural that I never realize that I am doing it until someone looks at me with a bewildered expression on their face. There have been instances when people have given me weird looks or stared with concern as they wondered if I was okay.

It all started from my childhood when I had imaginary friends. Yes, I said it I had imaginary friends, well they were more like imaginary siblings. That’s what happens when your two older sisters don’t want to hang out with you, cause you’re their annoying little sister who’s not cool enough to sit with them. No, I didn’t see these imaginary siblings, which is a common question people ask when I tell them of this fact. I just spoke to myself and fought with pillows pretending they were my siblings. Anyways back to my original embarrassing story.

I was walking to school on a chilly morning at the beginning of Autumn. The air smelt like exhaust from the

cars that drove by as they headed to work or school.

Frost had built on the parked cars, and fog surrounded the atmosphere. It was just me and fall…at least that’s what I believed.

As usual, I was having a conversation with myself because that is how I can process all the awkward encounters in my life while clearly creating more. I wasn’t whispering since I thought I was alone, so I spoke using the same tone of voice I would use when talking to someone. My conversation was a long one, and I was answering my questions as though it was someone else. It’s the only way I can make sense of things, and sometimes that’s how I affirm myself and my decisions.

I was strolling, enjoying my morning walk and reflecting on my life. I was going through my days to do list from most important to least, and preparing myself for the conversations I may encounter during the day.

While in mid conversation with myself, a little boy who was about 12 years old in age zoomed past me on his bike as he coughed the word, “Crazy!” My heart stopped, and my eyes became wide-eyed, as I still felt the chill breeze he left behind. I stopped in my tracks, frozen, having to remind myself to continue walking because you can’t let the haters see you fall. I then decided to turn around to see if there was anyone else behind me, and I saw a young girl walking a few feet behind. Even more embarrassed, my heart palpitations increased and I stopped talking to myself. I couldn’t believe that someone had been behind me. I started to wonder when the young girl started walking behind me and if she could hear me call (she obviously could), and for how long had the little boy heard me. I tried to stop thinking about what happened because it was only giving my anxiety.

I continued to quickly walk in silence hoping to get far away from the little girl and this embarrassing moment. shenda chimwaso

24

I

SURVIVED...

“That is not my marijuana.” The words stumbled

out of my mouth into the frosty morning air. Both officers stared coldly back at me, completely unconvinced. My spring break was not off to a good start.

Many stories came out of the far-fetched and halfbaked idea to take a road trip to Utah. The trip would include five guys, 3000 kilometers, and trunk full of camping gear. What could go wrong? Well first of allweather.

Fact: American’s are not as confident as their Canadian neighbors at driving in snow. We had just begun the climb over a mountain pass when the first snowflake hit the windshield. The car become very quiet as the light flurry turned into a blizzard which turned into what looked like traveling through hyperspace in Star Wars. My very capable friends turned into cowering children as the sun disappeared for the night.

One suggested pulling over. Another advised sleeping on the floor of a roadside washroom. Disgusted at their lack of faith, I dutifully took control of the wheel. I have braved Alberta winters at that simply will not do!

By the time we descended beneath the storm, it was late into the night, our eyelids barely propped open. I turned off the highway onto first exit toward a small town where we could camp for the night. The car’s lights came to a stop on a small park on the edge of town. Icy wind sent tumble weeds rolling across the barren field. Perfect. Numb from the cold, we painfully assembled our tents and jumped in for he night.

As morning light returned, I scooted my way out of the tent to stretch my legs. As I surveyed the surroundings, I realized our abandoned park was actually a small suburban neighborhood. I spotted a playground, some littered trash and a few Easter eggs hidden around some nearby boulders. Then I noticed a white truck idle to a stop, the driver staring at me, motionless. When I finished my loop and returned to wake up my friends, another pulled up. Two men got out of the white car. Just as my friends poked their heads out of the tent, the two uniformed men ambled down the hill towards us. We stood there awkwardly.

Just a bunch of guys in a park, nothing to see. I gave my best charming smile.

SPRING

BREAK

“Do you know you’re illegally camped in a city park?”

One of the officer barked at us, the other eyed us suspiciously.

We looked at each other blankly. “Well we just, ya know, we thought we’d camp here, because we got caught in a snow storm. We’re not from here. We were just leaving.” My friend Paul stammered nervously. The officers sized us up silently, gazing around our camp site. Officer One’s eyes flicked down toward the door of our tent, frowning when his gaze caught something in the grass. He stooped down, picked up a yellow Easter egg, looked at us.

“Hey you found one! That’s right it’s Easter!” I cheerfully joked, attempting to break the tension, immediately regretting my words.

As he cracked it open, we gazed in horror at what looked like a small green bag. Our foolish smiles faded. He sniffed it, handed it to officer two. The world went dead silent. This is not happening.

“Do you know anything about this?”

Officer one cocked his head and drilled his eyes into my very soul. My life sentence in prison flashed before my eyes. My promising college education. My parent’s trust. My life is over and I’m only 20 years old.

Now I don’t remember much of what I managed to squeak out, but somehow the two officers concluded that we seemed like “good guys”, wished us luck on our travels and suggested that we don’t trespass in anymore parks. We nodded like bobble heads. Grace was had that day.

We eased our car back onto the highway and broke into relieved laughter. Some wept. Doesn’t matter who. Distance spread between us and our near incarceration. And that is the story of how I survived my March spring break 2016.

j ef f bradbur n

25

“What is my life’s purpose?” One can simply answer, “My purpose in life is to be of great service to those around me.”

Another can say, “My purpose in life is to reach out to those who are broken.”

I WANT

to go

There are many answers to this one question and the thing is, there is no right or wrong answer. When this particular question is asked to people, some already have an answer ready, while others are still wondering. There are people who spend quite some time looking for the answer to this question. I am one of these people. So far, I know that I enjoy working with kids and that I want to have a career in that area. Prior to coming Burman, a close family friend had told me that if I ever get a chance, I should do mission work. She told me that it opens your eyes to the situations that we couldn’t even begin to imagine. I really wanted that experience so I joined the Burman Mission Team. Being a part of the mission’s team has given me a chance of being a part of encouraging students to get involved, whether it be being a Student Missionary abroad, or taking part in the local trips that are occurring.

I’m glad that I’ve been able to take in trips that are able to help the community. But, the more I talk to people who have been on mission trips and have experienced what it’s like to be out there, far away from your comfort zone, your family, friends, and everything else that you knew, it’s seems like a completely different world. They tell me the experience of working with different people from all walks of life and different beliefs.

People that they had to put before themselves on a daily basis.

Of course you experience being homesick like crazy, and you get attached to the people you work with. But, the people I’ve had the privilege of talking to and hearing their stories, you can feel the emotions behind each and every word that they utter because they’ve experienced something that is beyond words. Personally speaking, I’ve thought of being a Student Missionary, and I want to go. Even though I am currently unable to, I encourage you to think about it. I want to know the feeling of being outside my comfort zone. I want one day to do it abroad, but for now I can do that here. There is work that is needed to be done everywhere. All you have to be is willing, and say, “I want to go”.

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alexa tanlu

FIST BUMPS WITH JESUS For most people, coming to Burman is about growing up, becoming independent, and finding yourself. Perhaps when you arrived here back in September you had plans on making this the best year of your university experience.

You found yourself making friends, becoming involved in sports, choir, or even Campus Ministries, and eventually you realized that the café food was perhaps not one our universities’ strong suits. Nevertheless, I’m sure your experience on this campus has been great so far … at least I hope so.

Anyways, as busy as you may be with studying or hardly studying, spending time with friends, or doing whatever else it is you do as a university student, there comes a time every year where life is disturbed for a moments time as someone asks you the dreaded question, “so what are you doing for Valentine’s day?”

There are those who don’t really care for Valentine’s day, those who like me, have made Pinterest their best friend in search of cute and creative gift ideas for that special someone, and then there are those who turn into sobbing, ice cream eating, chocolate binging Elle Woods in Legally Blonde at the thought of still being single. If you can relate to any of these responses, you’re in luck because this one is for you. Whether you’re happily single, taken, or wondering why in the world someone as amazing as you is still alone, here are 5 tips I want to give you on relationships.

1. PRAY, PRAY, PRAY

I cannot stress this enough! I don’t believe in love at first sight or in finding “the one” but I do believe God cares an immense amount for your eternal happiness, especially when it comes to relationships. So if you’re a single pringle, whether you’re looking for someone or not, pray. Pray for that future someone even if you haven’t met them yet. And if you’re with someone, it’s a given, pray for them, pray for each other.

2. FOCUS ON BECOMING THE RIGHT MAN OR WOMAN

A boy once asked his mom, “How will I be able to find the right woman for me?” The mom answered, “Don’t worry about finding the right woman, concentrate on becoming the right man.” Enough said.

3. FIGURE OUT YOUR NON-NEGOTIABLES

They have to be Christian, they need to care for their physical health, they need to love my family, everyone has those “pre-requisites” or “non-negotiables” they follow when looking for someone to be with. Whether you’re taken or not, figure those out, know them, and don’t negotiate them for anyone.

4. OBSERVE BUT BE PATIENT

Once you feel you may be ready for something serious be on the lookout for that guy or girl who may spark an interest. Again, whether you’re taken or single, observe and take mental notes of both the good and bad things on that person. Think clearly before making a move towards something more serious because not everything that glitters is gold.

5. PATIENCE AND EVEN MORE PATIENCE

Whether you’ve been in one, a few, or many relationships, patience is key. Give time it’s time to reveal to you that person who just may be your forever (as cheesy as that sounds). You never know, they may arrive in your life when you least expect it and then it’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened.

All my love (and then some), Angelica

angelica cornejo

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A B R A N D N EW L I B R A RY I S C OM I N G ! ! !

Word on the street is that a new library building has been in the works. I had heard rumors, but living off-campus I’m kind of out of the loop at times.

Sure enough, after a little digging I came across the proposed building picture and the fundraising page. The anticipated building looks impressive to say the least. So I sat down with Dr. Haynal to discuss these future plans. Here’s what he had to say. (*spoiler alert * Burman library is about to get a MAJOR facelift!)

How many floors will the new library have?

It’s going to stay two floors with an addition on the far side that will look out over the P.E. centre and the lake. It will almost double in size. Not quite, but almost double. There will be an elevator, restrooms, outpost of the computer services.

Eventually a connection between the library and the cafeteria will be built allowing students to stay indoors as they move between the two buildings.

What can we expect from this new library facility that is different from what we have now?

The primary, goal when we began planning this project was to create spaces that students would enjoy. There are going to be three types of spaces.

One floor will be for group study where you can make noise and talk. The plan is to have different kinds of furniture that is rearrangeable so that students can form whatever little configurations they want to do. The floor below that will be for quiet study and it will have the same kind of furniture that can be arranged in different ways. Both floors will have private rooms that can be reserved by students and can go and work as a team for study.

We want to make it as warm and inviting and as comfortable as possible. For example, the current library used to be the old cafeteria, and there is a fire place in there that we’re going to keep because we thought that would be nice to have.

Did you guys catch that? BUILDING CONNECTIONS! NO MORE -30ºC wind chill freezing your face as you run to the cafeteria to grab some food.

So, the old library isn’t going to be torn down?

It is being completely gutted and brought up to code and everything will be brand new. But it is cheaper to gut the building and make it new than to build a stand-alone building. And so, everything was focussed on providing study spaces for students because that’s been one of the glaring inadequacies of the current library and campus in general.

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When is the expected start date?

The start date is proposed to be the summer of 2018 and it will be completed in 8-9 months according to the builder. However, I’m thinking that the summer of 2019 will be the move in date. But it all depends on raising money.

How much will this project cost?

The whole thing is going to cost about $3.9 million. That’s the building and all the furniture on the inside. Everything will be new. Right now, we have about $1.2 million raised so far. We need to raise the remaining money. If someone stepped up and donated lots of money right away, we could start building THIS summer because the plans are already in place. My guess is that it will take until next summer to get all the money raised. And this includes the outside landscape as well. Everything.

It’s going to be beautifully landscaped. They’re even going to replace the outside of the existing library. They’re going to replace the current entry way; it’s going to be really nice.

Exciting times ahead. Is there anything you want to tell students who are anticipating this new library?

I think I’ve covered it all. A few other things are that the library will have a special place for the writing center, it’ll have special space for archives.

The basement of the Administration building will be remodelled for the student success centre this summer. All in all, the library will be one building that has all the good stuff students want-one stop!

And connected to the cafeteria!

Now the connection to the cafeteria probably won’t happen until 2027. We have a ten-year plan. I think it’s important to note that in our ten-year plan as we do things like build a new cafeteria and build connections between buildings, we have identified accessibility issues on campus that we will steadily address each year so that the campus becomes steadily accessible to people with mobility issues.

Because that’s been one are that I think we have historically neglected and I believe that if we show we have a ten-year plan to steadily address accessibility to make the place more user friendly for people with mobility issues. It’s the right thing to do and it’s also the legal thing to do as well.

….and there you have it folks!! A BRAND NEW LIBRARY IS COMING!!! And it sounds (dare I say)….LIT. As students, we all know the importance of an effective study environment. If you’re not happy with the current library situation, THERE IS HOPE! And it’ll open its doors summer 2019. It sounds far away now, but trust me, it will come soon. The freshmen will have a chance to experience it in their last year, and hey, if any of you stay a few more years you’ll catch it too. But for now, let’s appreciate what we do have! There’s still acceptable places to study on campus. My favourite is the science building (Bio major probs).

Even if you don’t feel the library has the aesthetic you need right now, it’s still filled with a wealth of knowledge and resources. Be sure to check it out and take advantage. It’s what’s on the inside that counts right?

codrina baston