Burman Chronicle
Table Editors Note 01 Jasmine Pickett
Contents
Overcoming Discrimination 03 Bryna Figursky Diversity Acceptance in Trail Running 05 Chris Gordon Discrmination 07 Adam Kis Poetry: Who are you? 09 Anonymous Melting Pot 11 Anonymous I am a black girl 13 Anonymous The Bahamas 15 Anonymous
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I know that people don’t often realize it, but their discrimination feels like a brand against my skin. Last semester, I was diagnosed with a genetic disorder called hypermobility syndrome. Basically it means that I’m bendy, like a rubber band. That’s not great because it means that my joints can slip out of place without warning. It’s painful. They didn’t catch it until I was twenty years old. Now there’s nothing they can do for me. Most of my days are spent in various stages of pain, some days minimal, the next day so excruciating that I’m collapsing on the floor in tears. I started this by saying that ‘their discrimination’ feels like a brand. It’s true, and I also know that it’s not always done on purpose. That doesn’t take the sting of it away. It feels like discrimination, whether they meant it that way or not. “We’re moving your class,” or “I’ll carry your bag,” or “Do you think you can handle this or will it be too hard on you?” I know these are statements and questions are spoken out of love. That doesn’t mean my brain takes them this way. Or the comments about me that are meant as jokes. Most very poorly executed ones. “Gimpy,” or “stumpy,” or “cripple.” The worst thing is the stares I get. People who aren’t very good at hiding their disgust or their disdain when I limp past with my cane. I can feel THAT like a knife to the heart. These looks say “Why can she walk some days while on other days she has that cane?”
Some of this is my anxiety. Some of this is because I haven’t really accepted that I have a disability. If I say yes to the offers of help, I’m admitting that I can’t do this on my own. That I’m broken and there’s nothing anyone can do but accommodate said brokenness. I’m not broken, though, which is sometimes hard for me to admit. I certainly feel like it when I’m at the top of a stairway sobbing and alone because I couldn’t walk down those stairs with the others in my group to get some coffee. Or when I can’t move my leg a certain way without my knee slipping out of place. But I’m not broken. I’m an intricate art piece, abstract and sometimes hard to understand. I’m unique, and I’m different, and people don’t like it. That’s the same for anyone that stands out. If your skin color is different from another person’s, if your religion is different, if you have a different sexual orientation or a different gender. What makes us different gets us hurt. The “normal ones” can’t understand us. But art was never meant to be understood. It was meant to make you feel something. I know that I’ve made some incredible friends in my life here at Burman who love and care about me. All because I was myself, and all because I shared that with them. I’ve hurt people, made them happy, made them feel. I’m trying to accept the fact that I’m more different than I originally thought. This issue is about the outsiders, the misfits, the losers. It’s about the people who face discrimination through names and comments and looks and still continue their life as if nothing is wrong. Despite the pain, despite the heartache, despite their ‘otherness.’ I’m starting to learn to love being different all over again. I love being art. What about you?
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Overcoming Discrimination It is safe to assume that the majority of students on this campus have heard the names of Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr., especially during Black History Month. Both figures are widely known as activists for their part in the civil rights movement. While these two figures are arguably the biggest names to come up when talking of Black History Month, people tend to forget the numerous other black people that have been hidden throughout history, or perhaps have never even heard of them, regardless of accomplishments and achievements. In lieu of this, I have gathered a list of three remarkable black women who have done extraordinary things, and tend to go on forgotten or unrecognized today.
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Claudette Colvin took on the career of a nurse aide, but is more widely recognized for her part in the civil rights movement. Claudette was only 15 years old when she was arrested for refusing to give up her seat on a bus. This may sound like a copycat of Rosa Parks, but Colvin actually refused to give up her seat nine months before Rosa Parks did the same. Unfortunately, due to Colvin’s young age of 15, she was not given the same credit for her actions that Rosa Parks had achieved, as the title of “the first lady of civil rights” and “the mother of the freedom movement” were dubbed to Parks.
Shirley Chisholm was a very accomplished American woman, being recognized as a politician, educator, and author. She was the very first black woman to make it into Congress in 1968 representing New York. She was also the first black to be nominated for the position of President of the United States. Above all of these accomplishments, she also went on to be the first woman to be part of a presidential debate.
Alice Coachman was an African-American Olympic athlete. She excelled in many physical activities and sports such as track, but was primarily devoted to high jump. After years of hard work and training, Alice went on to compete on behalf of America in the Olympics and became the first black woman to bring home the Olympic gold medal.
These three women are just a few African-Americans that have done remarkable things, yet received inadequate recognition for their accomplishments. During Black History Month, I encourage everyone to look beyond the surface stories that are often told during this month, and discover some of the black individuals that have not received enough recognition for their actions.
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Diversity Acceptance in Trail Running People wouldn’t normally associate trail running weirdos as one of the most accepting groups in society, but it’s true! You’ll see people of various races, sexual orientations, shapes, and beliefs hurdling up and down trails sharing a common goal of running. It doesn’t matter what your history is, what language you speak, what you look like, or how much experience you have under your belt, you’re accepted. Some of the nicest people I’ve ever met have been trail running junkies. In the last few years since I’ve been trail running, I’ve interacted with many people on the trails who have opened up about their personal lives, and seemed to trust me instantly. Typically, people don’t open up so easily, and are suspicious of you until you gain their trust over time. It can be a matter of minutes with trail runners and you’re talking about the dark shades of your past or sharing your deepest fears. It’s hard to find people who will listen to you so readily and are willing to be vulnerable for a moment in time. It’s almost a guarantee that you’ll find encouragement, a high five, advice, laughs, smiles, and general love from trail runners. No one wants failure for each other because we’re all in it together, and we all have our demons we’re battling. The fact is, most of us are misfits compared to society, and we all have our individual struggles. It can be hard to find people who care about you outside of your family circle. If you want to find a group of caring people who will lift you up and accept you for who you are, consider joining a trail running club. We’re all running our own race, but sometimes it’s nice to have some company along the way.
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Discrimination can take place whenever and wherever you are a minority. Unless you are a minority, it is difficult to see discrimination. I never saw it growing up in the United States as a white male. I knew about it, but never saw it myself. And then I moved overseas. In West Africa, white males were in the minority. I experienced discrimination when a shopkeeper refused to even acknowledge my presence let alone serve me. I experienced discrimination when a market vendor tripled her price when she saw the “rich foreigner” approaching. In Central Africa, I experienced discrimination when a local magistrate ruled against ADRA and in favour of a consultant we had not hired, but who had performed a service for us without a contract and then presented us with a bill. “You’re a rich international NGO,” the magistrate reasoned. “You can afford to pay him. Just pay it and be done with it.” I learned from that experience that even positive discrimination (“Oh, you’re so rich!”) can be harmful. In Southeast Africa, I experienced discrimination when there were different national park entrance fees depending upon one’s nationality, and I had to pay more for the same services just because of my white skin. In Southeast Asia, I experienced discrimination when I was stopped by the police and charged with a traffic violation with no evidence. It happened so frequently to me and some of my fellow foreign colleagues that we eventually found it cheaper to hire local drivers than to pay the spurious traffic fines we would inevitably get if we drove ourselves.
Upon returning to Canada, I experienced discrimination when, in the middle of winter while jogging up College Avenue dressed from head to toe in my black running gear, a pickup truck with two white males pulled up next to me while one of them rolled down the window, leaned out, and shouted “Oh! We thought you were black! Sorry! Hahahaha” and drove off. At the last minute, they had seen the small slit of white skin and blue eyes peeking out from under my balaclava. What were they going to say? What had they been planning to do? I do not know. But I do know that I have now seen discrimination in North America as well.
When one experiences discrimination, one can see discrimination. To my fellow members of the majority group in Canada I say, “Discrimination is real. It is all around us. Just because we don’t see it doesn’t mean that it’s not happening.” I have, unfortunately, heard a few of my fellow majorities say that tales of discrimination must be made up or blown out of proportion. We need to believe and support our minority brothers and sisters for whom discrimination is an unfortunate reality. I would never wish discrimination upon anybody, but I do wish that all majorities in Canada could experience being a minority for a week. My experiences as a minority helped me to see discrimination. 8
WHO ARE YOU? We live in a world where skin tone is the basis of everything, A person is judged for where they were born, Not what they believe Who you are, is predetermined even before you speak Perception, interpretation, and location Each of these plays a role in who the world thinks you are Assimilation, dehumanization, and corruption Can be the hand that the world deals you How free are we here? To truly be ourselves, genuinely The world demands a sacrifice for freedom, It may be your identity, your dignity, your freedom Who are we to tell you who you can be? Who are you to belittle the culture and expression of others? Who are you to try and eradicate a people like they hold no great importance? Who are you trying to please? I am who I am because of my culture, I am who I am because I have survived my struggles I am who I am because I have surpassed my own suppression and that of others I am me.
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The Melting Pot. We are all nothing alike, Unique in so many different ways From fingerprints to ear shape With this we should have nothing in common, And yet we are so much alike, From our love for food and sleep To the shows we enjoy watching To the kinds of people, we connect with But over and over through history, We have strived to hurt each other in immeasurable ways We have set fire to each other’s dreams, Destroyed each other’s futures and histories All in the name of…. honestly, I don’t know We have done enough damage to each other Dealt each other a bad hand over the years, But why is it we continue to do so? Have we not learnt the lessons from the past? Some of us are the product of hurting communities Parents just trying to do the best in such unbelievable conditions Women not feeling safe to walk back home here in Lacombe, People just not feeling understood and represented Who are we trying to become as human beings? he issues that plagued our forefathers have been amplified And yet we walk around acting as though we have evolved It’s the 21st century” is the fools excuse We, here at Burman University need make decision We must do better, be better Help the hurt that so many people have felt, be elevated Be the solution, not the cause of the pain
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“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.�
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“I’m very proud to be black, but black is not all I am.”
I am a black girl.
My hair is my crown. I have big, thick curls. And no, I am not being too loud. My lips are plump and my hips are wide. I listen to soca and dancehall; that speaks of my Caribbean pride. I love summertime because my melanin pops. I want to soak up all the sun, while I wear my yellow top. I had to love myself before loving a dark skinned girl was a trend. So, love your dark skin. It’s definitely something I recommend. Black is beautiful and it doesn’t matter the shade. Because being a black girl is something I would never trade. The food, the music, the fashion and the hair. The black culture is so amazing. I can smell the cocoa butter in the air.
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This culture defines me. It makes up who I am. I am a black girl immersed in black culture.
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The Bahamas The Bahamas is a Beauty Filled with love and a big community In the Sun, Sand, and Sea is where I feel free Certainly, it is the place to be The Bahamas is a Beauty One in which I admire and adore It’s a little precious archipelago in which any and everyone would love to explore The Bahamas is a beauty Covered by God For we are a Christian nation Thanks to the father for this beautiful creation The Bahamas is a beauty With and strong, resilient and extraordinary people Even though we were discouraged by Hurricane Dorian it wasn’t the end it was just the sequel. We are proud Bahamians and we wouldn’t trade our islands for world This is our abode The Bahamas is a Beauty Filled with love and a big community In the Sun, Sand, and Sea is where I feel free Certainly, without a doubt it is the place where we all should be.
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“You must never be fearful about what you are doing when it is right.”
“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.”
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“Eastward and westward storms are breaking,--great, ugly whirlwinds of hatred and blood and cruelty. I will not believe them inevitable.�
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