Equity & Invisibility – Kyla Lee

by Kyla Lee

Criminal Lawyer - Barrister and Solicitor, Acumen Law Corporation

2019 Women of Inspiration Indigenous Leader Award

Women of Inspiration – Women Driving Change Book Contributor

EQUITY &

INVISIBILITY

When we talk about diverse representation, one important aspect of that is being able to see diversity in how individuals are represented. Lately, society has had a shift toward more diverse representation, including in women’s fashion and beauty campaigns. Starting with the Dove campaign, we saw body size diversity, skin colour diversity, and diversity from the traditional depictions of “beauty.”

This led to a trickle effect in other types of advertising, such that now it is normal to see a mix of ethnicities, sexualities, body types, and hair types in advertising.

The move toward representation of a diverse range of talent has also impacted business. There were calls - many of them successful – for more women and people of colour to be represented in the C-Suites or on corporate or volunteer boards. Newsrooms began to diversify on-air presenters. Television channels depicted more diverse content including shows that did not cater to white, male audiences.

But the shift toward diversity in representation has had its backswings.

Take, for example, the high profile case of Rachel Dolezal. She built a career on pretending to be a member of the Black community, tanning her skin and perming her hair in order to “look” like a Black woman. Problem is, she was not Black at all.

Dolezal used her fabricated connections to Black heritage and Black culture to take advantage of the shift toward diversity, taking spots from diverse individuals and claiming them as her own.

That may be an American example but Canada has its own. Two notable examples come to mind. The first is Carrie Bourassa, an “Indigenous” health expert who was later revealed to have no connection to any Indigenous community. The second, Michele Latimer. The latter used her falsified Indigenous credentials to gain notoriety as a filmmaker and take advantage of government and private funding given to Indigenous arts initiatives.

Some have criticized the push towards equity and representation as creating an environment wherein actors like Dolezal, Bourassa, and Laitmer can thrive. It is considered “impolite” to ask for someone’s proof of a connection to a diverse community. And by looking the part, with darkened skin and altered hair, these actors can play the role without much scrutiny.

I certainly do not think that equity and diversity initiatives are to blame for the proliferation of people like these three. They existed for decades, nay, centuries. The idea of “playing Indian” in order to achieve a professional or artistic advantage dates back in North American history all the way to people like Grey Owl. He was a famous Indigenous writer who was, well, not Indigenous at all.

Famed Canadian poet E. Pauline Johnson poked fun at the issue through her performative explorations of what it meant to be mixed-race, dressing for the first half of her poetry readings in European garb, and for the second half in what was believed to be “traditional” Indigenous attire. The stereotypical depiction of what an Indigenous person looked like at or around contact itself was a myth – created by white settlers collecting clothing and dressing up subjects.

But that myth – and others like it related to other diverse cultures – has permeated our modern understanding of what it means to be diverse.

There is absolutely merit in the sentiment that people want to see people who look like them represented in popular culture but some equity initiatives make “looking the part” more of a priority than actually being of a certain community.

Why do I say this?

I am a Métis person. Some of my relatives live on the Cold Lake Métis settlement in Alberta. I am descended from the Lépine family. One of my ancestors, Ambroise Lépine, was responsible for the execution of Thomas Scott - you know, that thing that ultimately resulted in Louis Riel being hanged for treason. Ambroise was also sentenced to death alongside Riel. They were close friends. When Riel was hanged, Ambroise had his sentence commuted in exchange for a giving up all his civil liberties.

But if you were to look at me, you would not see any of this. You would see blue-green eyes and light skin, light brown hair. My mother is Métis while my father is white, mostly Scottish and Irish.

People like Latimer and Bourassa have made it harder for people like me to celebrate our diversity. I have been told to my face by award selection committees that while I would otherwise qualify for an award, because I do not “look Indigenous” I am not a candidate, that “we don’t give awards to Métis people” and that I am, simply, not Indigenous.

Lateral violence in the Indigenous community contributes to this. But that lateral violence is a byproduct of colonialism, white supremacy, and a necessary sense of distrust against people who are not readily identifiable as “one of us.”

None of this is not to say that I have not and do not continue to benefit enormously from being white-coded. My white-passing privilege has inevitably allowed me entry into spaces without questions about whether I am there because of equity, because of diversity initiatives, because of quotas. Ironically, I probably would not have gotten into law school but for those initiatives. But no one ever questioned my right to be there based on how I looked. But white-passing is a blessing and a curse. There is little representation of mixed-race individuals even now. Equity initiatives want to be seen to be equitable, so mixed-race individuals who do not “look the part” are in a complex position. And mixed-race people like me live our lives simultaneously in two worlds, neither of which we fully belong in and neither of which we are fully accepted in.

An excellent book about this experience is Passing, by Nella Larsen. It tells the story of a mixed-race Black woman living in America shortly after emancipation. Segregation policies in place at the time leave the main character feeling a sense of not belonging in either community, but being able, by virtue of her ethnically ambiguous features, to exist in both. In the end, the character’s internal struggle with a mixed identity leads to her death. It is symbolic, mysterious, and the truth is never wholly clear. Equity initiatives will never be fully realized until the complex experiences of people who exist in both worlds are represented and understood. But explain that to a public that is still asking questions like “what percentage are you?” Or, “but you’re not fully Métis right?” And explain that to communities that have and continue to face theft from those like Dolezal, Latimer, and Bourassa, and which have, by necessity, developed a sense of distrust towards those who do not look like they belong. Ultimately, we have a long way to go toward diversity, equity, and inclusion. But having these conversations is how we get there. About Kyla Kyla Lee is a prominent criminal defence lawyer and impaired driving lawyer in Vancouver BC. She is highly-regarded in the realm of impaired driving thanks to her unparalleled string of successes in courts and tribunals. Kyla is renowned for her knowledge of the Immediate Roadside Prohibitions. She has appeared as counsel in all levels of Court in BC and at the Supreme Court of Canada.

Ultimately, we have a long way to go toward diversity, equity, and inclusion. But having these conversations is how we get there.

For that I am lucky.