SeeingRred
The Unburdening – January 15, 2018
Blistery winds and minus weather could not keep me from my walk today. I tucked myself into bundles of warmth and layers of protection, determined to keep my promise. I felt capable and strong and invincible, as I strode along the nearly desolate paths, steering clear of icy patches and yellowed snow. Without M. for accompaniment, I made a conscious decision to stay off the beckoning nature trails and keep on the main roads of our neighbourhood. The cold cut into me and sharpened my senses. My eyes darted from side to side constantly as I enjoyed the fresh air and chuckled at the tiny icicle beards forming on my newly hand-knitted neck warmer that I had pulled way up over my nose. It took only a moment for me to find the origin of the chattering birds that broke the silence of the lonely streets. A tightly tucked form in a darkened corner of a portico, watchful eyes following me, lazy spirals of smoke the only thing giving her away. When a fellow walker passed by without acknowledging my cheery “Good morning,” I turned around twice to make sure he was gone. In that instance, whilst my feet stepped to the beat of accomplishment and my heart sang with gratitude, I suddenly became aware of my awareness and my mind stopped in its tracks to think.
During my long, daily walks/jogs the filters in my mind unclamp and, as I process the thoughts and feelings that are there binding me, strings of words forming new ideas and different perspectives usually unfold. But, with no heavy thoughts for unburdening today (😊), I thought I would do something different and try to steer my mind. I was intent on wrapping up a current project and, with just a brief period set aside for contemplation and exercise, I attempted over and over to bring myself to focus in on it. No matter how I tried, my mind kept leading me away. It took me 60 miles away to an incident I had read briefly about on the weekend. The image of an 11-year old girl, whose hijab-shrouded hair had been cut by a scissor-wielding man, once and then again, on her way to school, shocked me into sadness and rage. I thought of the scene of the crime, just kilometres from where I had spent the first five years of my teaching life, and all the people in that immigrant community who must now feel targeted and so afraid. I thought of my lovely son, the same age as this young girl, being accosted and having his sense of security stripped, and innocence now replaced with the daunting evils of this world. It dug at me for a good five minutes. All the while my mind pushed, trying to surface other things. But I forced them aside, so that I could go back to enjoying my walk.
A while later, with just ten minutes to go before reaching my destination, I heard shouting. I turned my head to the left, past the fur of my hood, to see a man in a bright red jacket, waaay on the other side of the road, slow his black car down to a crawl. As I stared on in disbelief, this man, with half his upper body leaning out of the car window to make sure his sandpaper words reached me, glared contemptuously at me and spewed out ridicule and hate. The wind took mercy on me and swept up his words, so that I could not hear all that he was saying. I stood frozen for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. A gust of wind brought me back, “What the hell? Did that really just happen?? Is this for real??!”
I could not curtail my thoughts this time. For a moment, I felt like a little girl again… that little girl.
Grade 2/Oshawa: Handful of young friends, boys and girls, homebound after school. Walk, run, race, skip. Chatter, smiles, laughter. Group of jean-jacket eighth-graders in middle of long bridge, cigarettes hanging from lips. River on one side, cars racing past on the other. Nowhere else to go. Path blocked. Slow, quiet, single file to pass. Three across, looking back in wait. One left, head down, eyes up.
Look at her. Stupid little paki. <laughter>
Let’s get ‘er! <tossle, rumble, lift>
Little girl, back up against hard, metal rail, murky spring waters rush by twenty metres below. Head wrenched back, eyes beseech complacent clouds. Orange-tipped cigarette grazes skin of neck. Tossed to ground.
Run, paki, run. <laughter>
I’m okay. <cracking voice; stiff, reassuring smile>
Never talk about it. Plan ahead. Always cross the road.
Grade 4/Oshawa: Foot hockey at lunchtime. Girl chases ball through crowd. Finds ball clamped under older boy’s foot.
Here ya go n—–! <sneer>
Chest pumped out, girl smirks at boy.
You’re so stupid. You don’t know anything. I’m NOT a n—–! I’m a paki.
Grade 7/Brampton: Two best friends, arms linked, after school catch-up along path. Huddles, giggles, gushes. School in short distance, small clusters dot grassy knoll.
What are you laughin’ at, fuckin’ paki?! <laughter from behind>
Tall, long-legged giant between two freckle-faced boys, spins one girl around by the shoulder.
Girl, stunned, back stiffened, eyes meet.
Shut your fuckin’ mouth, paki … or I’ll shut it for you! <silence>
Look at her face. It’s got shit all over it! <laughter>
Onlookers hesitate and then walk on. Embarrassed eyes turn to friend. Tears coming, tears coming. Hold them back. Every day. Look out for giant and trolls! Love school. Hate school. Daily prayers for after school invites, to bypass period of peril. Lonely trails to subdivision. Ears alert, glance both ways. Still ¾ of the way to go.
Grade 9/Brampton: Gas prices low. Long lineups of vehicles at gas pump. Man sits at wheel of old van with daughter in back seat. Car comes quickly from street, straight to front, sidling along. Muscular arm propped over seat, stranger points boldly ahead. Unwavering stare/grumble/glare all the way, tension. Car bolts in front of van last minute, bumpers almost crash.
Man raises both hands indignantly in air. Damn jackass!
At pump, eyes meet. Stranger yells slew of profanities… @#%%#, #%^%&, @%$#%. All fueled up, but hateful words still fly. All eyes on, bystanders just stand and listen and wait.
Fucking immigrants. Learn how to drive! Why don’t you people just go back to your own country? Fuckin’ paki!
Strong leader. Feared fighter. Respected father. Diminished with final blow. This time stinging eyes meet in rear-view mirror. Silence all the way home.
The Soul-Searching
I would not normally have the self-control to de-escalate my raging emotions or the know-how to rise above this (I am really bad at dealing with injustices of any kind). But, miraculously, I did. I remembered how unbelievably (and unusually) happy I had been feeling only minutes before and I turned my face up to the sky and breeeathed. I thought of the radical changes M and I had made just recently, literally transforming our relationship/lives to one that we were still shy to claim, and a huge smile spread across my face. I took a photo right then and there to capture that moment. And, at that pivotal point where I could have stumbled and teeter backward or forward, I took a sure-footed step toward my future. Gratitude washed over me, and nothing else seemed to matter. I walked on, nothing big enough to break my stride, completely filled up, grinning from ear to ear.
The Denouement
The incident did affect me after. How could it not? I wondered why on earth would someone, in the spur of the moment, even think to do something so silly and senseless and mean? How did that guy, not a silly prankster teenager trying to impress a group of friends, but a late 20-or 30-something man all on his own, in this day and age (2018!), make the conscious decision on a freezing-cold day to wind down and lean out of his window, and to yell derisive slurs at a complete stranger walking, minding her own business, on the other side of the street? What rise or thrill did he get from it? What was the point? It truly puzzled me.
I set aside time to contemplate this unprovoked hostility and irrational behaviour, but only for a bit. I spent the rest of the day full of intention, releasing any and all negative emotions, turning them into positive, fruitful energy. Upon return home, I hummed and put away my groceries, remembering me and my #BatchofBoys the night before singing our own renditions of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect.” I did M and my favourite yoga meditation, in the mountains alongside Rodney Yee. I took extra care to prepare my favourite Yummiest Healthiest Salad and chewed slowly, taking in each and every bite. I fit in time to make dinner in advance, so that we could spend more “family time” once extracurricular activities were done. We joked and laughed at dinner, got messy baking and decorating cupcakes, took turns battling each other with Beyblades, did our night-time routines in peace and harmony. And, then I tucked them in with a story, one by one. At the very end of the night, I received a longed-for gift, a heartfelt thanks “for everyone being so very happy” and a wish that “every day will be as good together as today. Thank you, Mommy.”
Notes:
i) I found out a few hours later from a friend’s post on Instagram that January 15th is Martin Luther King Jr. Day – coincidence or bittersweet irony??
ii) After writing this article, I learned that, after a thorough police investigation, it was concluded that the hair cutting incident did not, in fact, occur. <I am stunned and ashamed that such a horrific story would be made up. This is another conversation that needs to be had! :{ ☹
Lucy
I’m sorry this happened to you Reesheen.
White people rarely have to think about their race – the race they’ve invented. I doubt any one of us imagines taking a walk and having our humanity reduced because the amount of melanin in our skin. I’m no longer shocked at the display of racism, even in 2018. I know that KKK is the fringe and exception, but they are not the biggest threat.
It’s the whites who have no trouble reconciling “I love Martin Luther King Jr.” with “I don’t really want too many Pakistanis in Canada, they’ll ruin what I like”. They refuse to listen, they refuse to see their bias, they become defensive and do nothing to dismantle the supremacist system their ancestors created.
SeeingRred
Thanks Lucy. I honestly was very shocked. I have not experienced outright racism personally for quite some time. Yes, whenever we consider going to the U.S. or driving out to the countryside, I expect it. But, in our little suburb not too far from the T.O. where the schools are filled with all different shades and most people are friendly, I felt fairly safe. I must say, more than anything, I feel disappointed… that after so much progress still there are people holding these skewed perceptions and hateful grudges… and, that our children have to continue to fight racial injustices. Perhaps racism is so deeply ingrained/systemic/tolerated that it will always exist.
Zanecia Ramjohn
My Dear Sister Rish, I am in tears and reading this a second time. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy and 2 nights ago I finally read this and was bawling. I second guessed and doubted this incident occured. I thought that this incident was ‘dramatization’ for the purpose of capturing your audience and then you will tell a story of something reflecting on ‘Martin Luther King Jr’ Day.
How disgusted I am and ashamed that today, Jan 2018, someone who looks like me(ok so you are cuter..) could experience this animosity and and mean, cruelty from a mere stranger..why? what was his purpose?I’m so sad and a burning, heaviness in my heart for the last two days to think of what you must have felt; I’d like to be a bad ass and mess him up; I am so sorry Rish about the incidents and injustice you experienced as a child as young as my daughter’s age, grade 2 and then repeatedly more prejudice and cruelty by these kids.
I do feel that this incident had a big message, it was ironic and a juxtaposition that this happened to you(Martin Luther Jr Day). I do feel somehow that the way you handled it by consciously taking control and reflecting on the positives in your life(M and the kids and the good place you are at), elevated and transcended you. I like the descriptive of the clouds, and the wind and the awareness of not allowing yourself to be dragged under and swallowed up..Rish I think this is profound and although it was scary and brought back incidents as a child, it is meant to send a message out there to the universe and others who are being bullied or who have been bullied because they are different. I have witnessed some of this as a child and a few times stood up to some bullies who picked on kids who were ‘different’ one of which is at Lake Vista Middle school.I’m ashamed and feel guilty that this happened to you; I’d have preferred it to happen to me instead because I had more of an ego and maybe it would not have damaged me as much as you..I do recall the situations with dad where I witnessed people saying immigrants and paki and it broke my heart; I hated them for saying that to our ‘protector and pappy’..I feel guilty and ashamed because I was spared why?(will talk in private)..
I’m proud of what you are doing; you have guts, heart, strength and a purpose. Be assured that you have helped at the least one person with your story…You have opened and exposed yourself..I think you are more connected to the universe and your true self that you know…Love you my lil sis..keep reaching for justice and fairness..the universe knows…
SeeingRred
Hi Zan, thank you for writing. The whole purpose of my blog is to speak my truth, so please take comfort knowing that I will not lie or sensationalize my posts:) It saddens me that this really did happen. How strange it was. I am still at a loss. Except for that second when I wondered if the car would do a u-turn, I was not afraid. I just thought what a sad, despicable creature that person must be to spread hate, instead of putting forth the same time and effort to do something good.
We all have had experiences that stay with us, sometimes changing us inherently. These childhood ones were crippling — they caused me to alter my thinking, my behaviour, my heart, my life. I am fairly certain they shaped me into the person that I am (both good and bad parts), but I cannot be regretful. Because of them, I have learned to make a conscious effort to reflect daily, learn from my many mistakes and do my best to somehow make the world a better place.
I wish we all could protect our kids from every unkindness, injustice, monstrosity. But, this recent incident reminded me that we can’t — it breaks my heart to know this. The only thing we can do is to love our children, try to build them up and, by being the best role models we possibly can (walking the walk and talking the talk), guide them to be decent human beings of strong character, aware of their capacity/responsibility to spread happiness and bring about positive change.
Thank you for your love, your praise and your faith in me. I will try my best, I promise. Let’s talk soon 🙂
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