What Next? What Now?

Dear Faculty and Students of Victoria College,

The murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis law enforcement was yet another example of the dehumanization of Black people in North America. We, the Victoria Black Student Network, have been called upon to reflect and share our thoughts as Black people in Canada, and as Black students attending the University of Toronto and Victoria College. Recent events—captured in the numerous clips of police brutality against Black people, the Black Lives Matter protests, and movements for political reform—have prompted us to think critically about what this institution’s next steps should be. The following letter will share our thoughts and our suggestions for effective ways of moving forward.

To begin, we would like to acknowledge that police brutality and other racially motivated acts of violence against Black people are not new phenomena. These acts of violence—along with other forms of oppression—have been adversely impacting Black people since the beginning of the colonial era and even prior. While the events that have taken place in United States have, over time, portrayed issues of racial injustice as a solely American issue, this narrative is not only inaccurate but also detrimental to the process of raising awareness around global anti-Black racism and racial injustice. In Canada, we pride ourselves on being a multicultural society. However, the haven that Canada is often described as is not the reality for many racialized people. By denying that Canada has a history of institutional, societal, and systemic racism, we inadvertently invalidate the racist encounters that many racialized people in this country experience daily. It is time we say that racism—and anti-Black racism in particular—does exist in Canada, and it is time to take on the responsibility of unpacking it as a society.

One of the reasons why racism in Canada has remained largely uncontested both nationally and globally is because it is usually not as overt as the racism that is depicted in the United States. As a result, many people who are not victims of racism often deny its existence by comparing its presence in Canada to that in the US. For many who are not on the receiving end, it is easy to dismiss racism in Canada by arguing that it simply “doesn’t exist” or that it is “not as systemic or deep-rooted” as it is in the United States. To these arguments, we respond: Why should the US. be our standard? Why are we so comfortable with being the “less racist” country instead of a country actively working to become anti-racist? 

Microaggressions, for example, are normalized in Canada—and they make it increasingly difficult to address racist acts because they are often masked in innocence and curiosity. For instance, questions of cultural background such as, “Where are you really from?” are of a divisive and excluding nature, yet their negative impacts are often excused in the name of genuine interest. More examples of covert racism in Canada include non-Black peers singing the “N-word” in a song, comments about our “hair looking better straight,” or surprised reactions when we discuss our academic excellence. Despite being students at Canada’s top post-secondary institution, we have seen that these are not isolated issues—and they do not occur in a vacuum. Most importantly, microaggressions are hurtful and harmful, and they contribute to anti-Black sentiments.  

Furthermore, while the racial dynamic in Toronto is unique by way of Toronto’s prevalent multiculturalism, it is by no means representative of all of Canada. This racial dynamic may be understood and experienced differently—and often to the detriment of people of colour, particularly Black people—at the national level. Many fellow Black Canadians have shared their experiences of the daily overt and systemic discrimination they face while living in the prairies or small townships outside of the city. Many Black Canadians have been denied opportunities despite being more than qualified, and, in instances, have been reduced to playing the supporting role—following a script that was not written with us in mind. 

In mainstream media, creations and trends by Black people in industries such as fashion, food, and music are extensively appropriated. Thus, our culture has become a commodity from which society often capitalizes much more than its originators. When we unapologetically express our culture through our hairstyles, our natural hair is considered “unprofessional.” The way we dress is often labelled as “ghetto” or “not put together.” This has encouraged many Black people to try to assimilate by perming our hair and undergoing other physical changes, but we still often remain unwelcomed in top-tier professional positions. The faces of popular brands are rarely Black, but when prominent influencers flaunt lip-plumping enhancements or non-Black women sport their “boxer braids,” the archetypes of Black culture are suddenly considered haute couture and avant-garde. Black culture has always mattered in mainstream media.

So why is it, then, that when Black people are being targeted and murdered by police officers, white supremacists, and vigilantes—for walking with our hands in our pockets, holding a toy gun, going for a run, sitting in our living rooms, or simply being asleep—the first question is: “What did they do to deserve it?” In 2012, when Trayvon Martin was murdered by a vigilante and the “Black Lives Matter” movement began, the question of Trayvon’s innocence circulated globally, and a seventeen-year-old was criminalized post-mortem for his unjustified murder. Now, George Floyd’s murder—following the wrongful murders of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery—has brought the world together to fight against global anti-Black racism like never before. However, the movement quickly became a trend, and our right to live in incidents where our lives should not have been threatened in the first place was still in question.

 While they may be trending topics now, we want to make it clear that the unwarranted murders and arrests of our people are lifetime fears that haunt many of us. The colour of our skin is not a threat nor a weapon, yet society has repeatedly perceived it as such. We have been taught that we are somehow responsible for the mistreatment and overall injustice we face. Our ancestors did not ask to be enslaved, stripped of their culture, and divided from their families and loved ones; and we did not ask to be persecuted for our resilience as a people, despite centuries of disfranchisement, generational trauma, and oppression.

We seek the same excellence, the same ability to reap the fruits of our labour, and the same recognition as equal citizens in society. Yet we are rarely rewarded according to our efforts, and only acknowledged once we have surpassed all expectations and achieved greatness, all while trying to also surpass the barriers that society has imposed upon us because we are Black—and even then, we are not free of injustice.

While it is important that universities send out letters acknowledging issues of racial injustice and the need for change, this alone is not enough. We must reiterate that statements denouncing racism can no longer only be guaranteed upon instances of police brutality, but also other injustices such as the differential experiences that racialized students have in educational institutions. Furthermore, providing statements without an underlying plan of action is often understood as a performative measure employed by bureaucratic educational systems—the same way social media users have “done their part” by posting a black square to their feeds. To this, we ask: What next? What now? Recognizing the problem with no intention to act does not positively change anything for Black communities; if anything, it tells us that the injustices we will face hereafter are conscious ones because society now knows better. Additionally, mere promises of help are no longer acceptable after centuries of hope for change due to empty promises. Now is the time to not only say “Black Lives Matter,” but most importantly, to demonstrate that Black lives will be equally valued in a society that has historically failed to do so. In the context of educational institutions, it must be understood that Black students are not charity cases, thus we need to be guaranteed the same opportunities for advancement as our non-Black counterparts.

At the University of Toronto, this lack of opportunity is evident from the faces we see in the leadership positions on campus. For the most part, this lack of diversity is conveyed in high profile positions at the University, such as program directors, administrative heads, college principals, and professors. This environment is not conducive to the success of Black and other racialized students: we continuously see stories of success, but seldom are they people from our communities. This is partially due to the lower institutional expectations for Black academic achievement that are reflected in higher education, not only at the administrative level but also that of the student body. 

For many of us, it is common to be the only Black student in our classes. Aside from the executive roles in Black student organizations, high-ranking leadership roles are predominantly occupied by our white and non-Black peers. The University of Toronto Students’ Union (UTSU) and the Victoria University Students’ Administrative Council (VUSAC) are but two examples of this. This is partially due to the noticeably lower population of Black students at the University of Toronto, but also a result of the implicit message that, evidenced by the historic lack of Black representation, “President of the UTSU” or “President of VUSAC” is not a position open to us. This absence of diverse representation within leadership roles at the University perpetuates a sense of discouragement; even if a Black candidate possesses the required qualifications for a position, they may still feel discouraged to pursue it. While the tide of change may have begun with students of colour being elected into said positions, Black candidates have not fared as well. In response to this, Black students have created our own organizations and leadership roles—thus, paving our own roads to success where society previously left us on a path of gravel.

As the world has begun to acknowledge the injustices that Black people face, and in the wake of George Floyd’s murder and many like him, we, the Victoria Black Student Network, recognize it as a call to action, and we challenge Victoria College and the University as a whole to do the same. It is not enough to say that there is a problem; we want, and we need concrete proof that something is going to change.

We require increased representation in our student body, more funding available to Black students in financial need, and that our colleges be more critical of the image they promote, working to better appeal to, welcome, and serve Black students along with our non-Black peers. Until this occurs, the University of Toronto student experience cannot trulyaccommodate and celebrate cultural and racial diversity. We recognize that structural change cannot occur overnight; however, getting started is a step in the right direction—a step forward in protecting our rights as students, but more importantly, as human beings. 

Unapologetically, 

The Victoria Black Student Network.