By Mariyah Salhia
Privilege isn’t as clear cut as it seems, and a lot of us have it without even knowing that we do. I know where mine starts, but I also know where it ends. So how do I accept my privilege without reducing the discrimination I’ve faced?
Accepting, or even understanding privilege can be confusing. Privilege doesn’t just look like skin colour or ethnicity, it comes in several different forms. I am able bodied. I am cisgendered. I live in a house with both of my parents where I have my own room. I’ve never had to worry about if the place I’m going to will be accessible to me. I’ve never worried about the gender I identify with matching the one on my birth certificate. I’ve never had to worry about not being able to legally marry the person I want to. While none of these things have to do with race, they are all privilege.
I have to acknowledge that not being Black comes with a lot of privilege. I am less likely to be unlawfully detained. My hair in its natural state has never been a reason to discriminate me from a place of work. I’m not directly dealing with the effects of slavery. I don’t have to worry about any of my family members being pulled over for a broken taillight and not making it home because of it. I don’t have to watch people in my community be brutally and senselessly killed, day in and day out on a street that looks like the one I live on when I open my timeline.
I know this all as fact.
Now, here’s the part that I’ve recently had trouble with.
While I have never personally experienced anti-Black racism, been targeted, profiled or discriminated against by it, I have faced racism. So has my family, and so have the people who identify with the same ethnic and religious labels that I do.
I am a natural citizen, meaning that I was born in Canada. But my parents? That’s a different story.
My parents immigrated here when they were children. Their parents, like many others who decide to immigrate to Canada, were seeking a “better” life for their young families. So, as one might conclude, they lived the typical immigrant-children experience.
I’m extremely lucky. Both of my parents are very well educated. In fact, the only schooling they ever had was in Canada, a privilege that many other immigrants don’t have. Elementary school, right through to university, and postgraduate for my mom. But make no mistake, they were treated like immigrants.
My Indo-Guyanese mother, who immigrated with her parents when she was just four years old, tells me stories of how teachers would roll their eyes when she told them she wanted to be a lawyer. I’ve watched her be reduced to her skin colour mid-sentence.
My father, who immigrated to Canada with his parents and sister when he was just a baby, tells me about how classmates during the Gulf War called him “sand n****r” when they found out he was Egyptian.
I’ve been told to “go back where I came from,” despite being born in Canada.
I’ve been stopped mid-conversation to be asked “Where were you born?” or “Where are you really from?” too many times to count.
People have assumed the city that I live in based only on my complexion and facial features.
My sister and I have been put in the unbelievably uncomfortable situation of being asked, “How come one of you is darker than the other?”.
I’ve been told that it would be easy for me to get a job, not because of my education, abilities, or work ethic, but because I “check a lot of race boxes, you’re going to be an asset to a lot of companies.”
Some of these comments are justified with a comment like “It’s not racism, it’s just curiosity,” or “Relax, it’s supposed to be a compliment,” or the ever-favourite, “You’re being a little irrational.”
I am not the picture of the model Muslim, but regardless, Islam is a part of my identity. Muslim people all over the world are being systematically eliminated. China, Yemen and Palestine are just a few countries where this is happening. Seeing people who identify with labels that I do, being persecuted for believing in the same things I do, is difficult and frustrating.
These are issues that I cannot stay silent about. Racism is racism, and it always needs to be dealt with. Being a person of colour whose ethnicity or race can’t immediately be determined doesn’t mean that a racist comment can slide. Even if a comment is made to me about a race that I don’t identify with, I still reserve the right to be offended, and I will still tell you that it is racist.
But here’s the thing; I am not a Black woman. I do not have Black brothers or sisters. My parents are not Black. My family, while we are of colour, are not Black. I have never experienced anti-Black racism that was targeted at me, and I never will. The racism that I have faced is not the same as any Black person. The racial and ethnic groups that I identify with, have not been discriminated against or brutalized the way that Black people have. Most of my ancestors were not treated the way those of a Black person’s were.
When I was younger I was embarrassed to tell people my last name, I thought it sounded too “ethnic.” When I was in middle school, a white student told me that it sounded funny. In fact, I saw this happen to a lot of students with last names that didn’t sound white.
As I grew older I realized that too was a privilege. Not bearing the last name of a slave owner. Not having my family history attached to another’s, who bought, sold, and traded the ones who came before me like they were pieces of the stolen land that they settled on.
Yes, it is true, having a last name that people laugh at, or that takes up a little more space on the attendance sheet is really hard at school. And yes, having a last name that people have trouble pronouncing, or that makes people uncomfortable because it implies my ethnicity or religion might make it more difficult for me to get a job, or even an interview. These are undeniable facts.
But it is a privilege for it to be my own. For it to be a name that wasn’t assigned to me, like a barcode is to a piece of merchandise.
I have to recognize how much privilege I have, because it is a lot. But I cannot reduce the experiences that people in my racial, ethnic, and religious groups have had. I cannot reduce the experiences of my parents. I cannot reduce my sister’s. Or my own.
I’m still figuring out how to achieve this balance. So until then, I will continue to amplify Black voices. And I will continue to stand up for people outside of the Black community who have faced injustice. And I will continue to support and defend the people in my communities. And I will continue to try and find balance.
Resources to take a look at
Black Lives Matter
General Information and links to petitions, resources and donation pages – https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/
Fight For Breonna ⏤ https://bit.ly/2BK8lEs Justice For Breonna ⏤ https://bit.ly/388ACku
Color of Change ⏤ https://bit.ly/2YzkoO3 Contact
Petitions To Sign ⏤ https://bit.ly/2YQnNHc
Palestine
General Information and links to petitions, resources and donation pages – https://helppalestine.carrd.co/
Justice for Iyad al Halek – http://chng.it/7nXbwmsRwJ
Palestine Children’s Relief Fund – https://www.pcrf.net/
Yemen
General Information and links to petitions, resources and donation pages – https://yemencrisis.carrd.co/
Water for Yemen – https://www.launchgood.com/project/water_4_yemen_1#!/
Freerice by the United Nations World Food Programme – https://freerice.com/categories/english-vocabulary
China
Information about the Uyghurs in China and how to help – https://uyghurs.carrd.co/
mariyah salhia 