We are all the problem
In light of Donald Trump’s presidency and the increase in hate crimes in Canada, I feel a conflict in my gut; it is both a gnawing need to address the state of things and a desire to not think about things at all—because it cripples me with depression.
Ignorance and silence, however, are luxuries belonging to better times. Now is the time to speak out against injustice and hate. The purpose of speaking out is not to vilify anyone but to open up opportunities of conversation and, perhaps more importantly, the challenge of self-reflection. We must share our experiences and perspectives with each other and engage in open and respectful dialogue.
Canada, as an officially multicultural country, champions the ideals of diversity and equality. Even though I was born in India, my family immigrated to Canada when I was a toddler and these were the ideals I was taught by my teachers as well as my parents.
Canadians are taught that Canada is a mosaic. We are taught that Pierre Elliott Trudeau declared that Canada would adopt a multicultural policy in 1971. We are taught that the Canadian Multicultural Act was established in 1988. We are taught that our strength is in our diversity.
We are taught about World War I and II, about the horrors of genocide, slavery, and colonization. We are taught all this because knowing it—learning from it—ensures that these tragedies would never repeat.
I learned all of this and—after receiving my PhD—I now teach my students about the importance and value of multiculturalism, the dangers of racism, and the inaccuracy of stereotypes.
And yet, for all our knowledgable precautions, we watch as the very ideals of our society—multiculturalism, equality, diversity—are being dragged through the mud of hate, intolerance, and ignorance.
One of the largest culprits of the state of things is the human desire to believe that, amidst all of the chaos, we alone are somehow righteous, good, and blameless. If no one thinks they are the problem then someone must be lying. But wait—it’s not just that someone is lying—it’s that people are lying to themselves. If we as individuals cannot admit our shortcomings even to ourselves, then how can we ever expect to grow as a society?
First of all, let us please stop pointing at the U.S. like prejudice doesn’t exist in Canada; I don’t just mean the tragedy of a terrorist attack, but in our day-to-day lives as well.
Let me provide some examples.
I was at the lake and overheard a woman talking to her friends. She said that a young Indian girl had drowned to death and that’s what happens because those Indians always have so many kids they can’t keep an eye on all of them.
I was talking to my roommate and he explained to me that he doesn’t actually know anything about transsexuals, but he’s not okay with them.
I was talking to my friend about a guy she was dating and she showed me his Facebook page. He had posted a number of memes and jokes about the prophet Mohammad and pork.
I went on a date and told the guy that I studied, among other things, racial stereotyping in stand-up comedy. He then told me a horrific joke that compared black people to monkeys.
These incidents all took place in Guelph—the city that seeks to fashion itself as “a city of Sanctuary.” Don’t get me wrong, I love Guelph and am happy to call it my home; I just don’t want our community to ignore our issues because that would allow them to grow.
What is often forgotten about the mosaic of multiculturalism is that we all keep to our own groups. That’s not to say that we’re divided like stereotypes in a high school cafeteria in a movie; it’s to say that we are generally around people who believe what we believe.
For me, that means that I’m generally around people who don’t: group people together in a broad generalization based on their physical characteristics or background; say transphobic or homophobic things; belittle someone’s religion; or make racist jokes.
Since I’m not exposed to other views on a regular basis, I am always unsure about how to respond in these situations. If part of multiculturalism is to allow people to retain their beliefs, then do I have a right to challenge them? Yes, if they are hateful—but will I be safe if I challenge them? I honestly don’t know.
I often retreat to brooding about my own views rather than speak out. I tell myself that just because these people view things in a way that I perceive as hateful does not make them bad people. People are complex, after all, and it took a whole lifetime for them to end up with the beliefs they have. Having someone challenge their worldview may work, but it may also lead to silence, which isn’t a solution.
Challenging a worldview must come from within and—despite years of thinking these things through in school—my personal challenge started at home.
As I mentioned earlier, I was born in India. My family is Hindu and I’m agnostic. To those who don’t understand how Hinduism or Islam are different, I’ll explain it in some really simple terms. Hinduism is: yoga, the “om” symbol, and a lot of gods. Islam, on the other hand, is a lot more like Christianity and Judaism.
Hindus and Muslims, historically, do not get along. In Hinduism, cows are considered sacred and worshipped, while in Islam, cows are eaten. In India, it is not acceptable for Hindus and Muslims to get married.
I provide this information because I want it to be clear that just because society may view us all as “brown,” that doesn’t mean that we are all the same or that there aren’t other issues at play.
Having moved to Canada, my family adopted the ideal of multiculturalism, and we always had friends from all faiths and ethnicities in our lives. Our Muslim friends treated us like family. And we learned to be respectful of each other’s ways. I would dress more conservatively around my Muslim friends’ parents and they would make sure there was something vegetarian for my family to eat when we visited.
And yet, when my brother began to date a girl who is Persian and Muslim, he initially hid it from my family because he didn’t think we would accept her. The troubling thing here is that we didn’t accept her. I heard myself saying what I had heard everyone who is Hindu or Muslim say: “We are too different. The family won’t accept her.” When I heard my parents express the same sentiments, I suddenly was shocked with myself.
All my life, I have strived to see people for their kindness and their hearts above all else and here I was swallowed up by shallow claims of supposed difference. I told my parents that they had brought us to this country and taught us to be accepting of everyone. To make a decision about a woman that we have not met because we assume she is too different from us and worry about what people we barely speak to will think is ridiculous.
Although it probably took a year filled with difficult conversations, heated arguments, and heavy silences, my family eventually pushed past our personal prejudices. I’m so glad that we did because my family now includes an incredible person we might have missed out on knowing.
It’s amazing how the more time you spend with people who are different, the less different they become, and the harder it is to make decisions based on hate inspired by politicians who use fear to gain power; or religions we don’t really follow anymore, but feel compelled to hold onto; or even distant family who forgot about us until we gave them something to talk about.
Still, I don’t think a single conversation, a protest, or even this article are enough to improve the state of things. The only way I see to improve things is to recognize that we are all the problem; to seek out our views and to challenge ourselves; and in so doing, learn how we can become the solution.
Photo by Mariah Bridgeman/The Ontarion.