Thank you all for your engagement on my last post!

I think we sometimes forget about the trials and tribulations of living in the hood. You live near interesting people. You are reminded of your differences often. You learn to fear the white man. You remember the voice of your mother telling you don’t trust anybody. Yes, it is sometimes forgotten but I must admit this has influenced who I am today.  

It started off with a few close calls doing ding-dong-ditch. Being chased by dogs. Going to your local community centre and finding a white woman trying to give you a flu shot speaking fluent Somali, assuming she is a witch, then running into the icy terrain of the Canadian winter. Then it progresses into so much more. Suddenly you learn that people can learn all sorts of languages and skills. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. And fear not, for those white boys who came into your basketball court on their rollerblades, being dragged in by their dogs like a horse drawn carriage to intimidate you were just growing up too ❤️.

I remember in school being asked how it felt to be here. How it felt to be a child of immigrants learning to live in this wonderful country. But-I remember thinking-I popped out of this bitch too. My bus route goes through the hospital I was born at. Isn’t that enough?

At the mention of any political issue from Africa or the Middle East in your classroom and suddenly everyone turns their heads, including your teachers. Yes, it was often that simple. The mention of non-western geography and I was suddenly the spokesperson of so many people. Unpaid, of course. Not knowledgeable enough. Growing up just like everyone else. But with the responsibility to remind people of one’s humanity. That “no we are not like such and such” and promises of “we are so much more.”

It was never that serious though. You grow up and you succeed anyway. You surround yourself with lovely people. You learn more. Become more.

Then comes a white man. I have known many. Seldom had an issue. Majority were lovely or indifferent. But this white man was special. It began with a parking dispute. Mind you, his parking was nowhere near ours and had absolutely no influence on his. He would call bylaw often. But that was not enough. Not to him. He had a preference for vigilante justice. No matter how lame. But still hidden by his own cowardice.

He would take pylons. No wait. Not just regular pylons. Those construction ones. You know, with the orange and black stripes. Wait let me insert a photo below.

Yes, these ones. They were left over by the city from a job they were doing down the road. He would place these around our car. Like every fucking day. This went on for weeks. I kid you not. We would step inside the house for 20 minutes. Then look out our window and see they were placed. And it was obviously him. Although, he would deny it. Do you know how ridiculous this is? He would sometimes place it on our car. Like- why?

One day, I came home and was parked for just a moment. While I was still in the car, he began placing these pylons. I think maybe because I was a woman, he thought he could intimidate me? I just stared back at him in shock. I pinched myself, wondering if this was real. I asked him what the meaning of all this was. He just furrowed his brow and locked me in.

My siblings and I would discuss on how we should deal with this. Knowing this white man was unhinged and definitely lacking critical thinking skills. We come home one evening from a Timmies run, bracing ourselves for the disruption this man would add to our lives. Then half an hour later, our car was completely surrounded by these dumbass pylons. I feel like he had a google alert on us… but that makes no sense. So, my brother- fed up- placed these around his car. Then this white man called the cops.

I do hope you see the entitlement in his behavior. The irony of it all- although I am nervous, I sometimes interpret irony wrong. Well, the cops did nothing. Told us to make a complaint with the city. He still denied it BTW. Strange.

Then I remember when I wore a green sweater and red hijab in high school. It was the week before the holiday break. My teacher enthusiastically greets me and notes how I have dressed in Christmas colors. I laughed politely. Or the mention of FGM in my university ethics seminar, the group turning to me, me sighing and making my comment of how me and my religion were against it. Only for my professor to ask “when did you come here?” But she was kind, so whatever. The time my father tried to show my younger siblings that dogs aren’t scary, only for that dog to bite him in the knee, the white woman fleeing with her dog, him being brought to the hospital, then on his days off wondering where she went? I hope he learnt a lesson about teaching a lesson that day.

I am aware there is many mentions of dogs in this post. And yes, I will admit, I am afraid. This fear has improved, with some exposure. But I am happy to say I do not fear the white man. I often visit their coffee shops and click “no tip” because money doesn’t grow on trees. The cost of living is through their roof. But their lattes are good, so there’s that.

If you wonder why I shared this post, please know I am there with you. I do not know. But please tune in for next week, and I really do hope I do not disappoint you. But I might. Depending on my mood and forgetfulness. Thank you, again.