Love Letters
to the Black Community

Student & Letter Recipient Pair 1:
NASMA A & HANNAH MOHAMUD

Hannah Mohamud
Hannah Mohamud is a first-year law student in the Faculty of Law at the University of Ottawa and Vice-President, Advocacy, of the Black Law Students’ Association, University of Ottawa chapter. She is a policy and communications professional with a successful track record in citizen engagement and mobilization.

Dear Hannah,
My name is Nasma and I am currently in my third year of undergraduate study at the University of Toronto, double majoring in sociology and health studies. As someone who aims to work in the health policy field, specifically to dismantle racial inequities in health, I usually look to connect with individuals who do anti-racism, equity, and diversity work, which is how I discovered your work.

I wanted to begin by remarking that your commitment to deconstructing racism and oppressive systems has been inspirational. From what you study to the organizations that you work with, it is clear that you work with purpose and use your platform and expertise to uplift marginalized individuals and communities.

I have also watched your recent interview on CTV News regarding the matter of professors at the University of Ottawa using the n-word and attempting to legitimize its use in classroom settings. And I must admit, while watching this interview, I was deeply saddened by how, in 2020, you still had to explain why using the n-word is inappropriate and derogatory in classroom settings. And I wanted to say, "I'm sorry." I’m sorry that you are still advocating for the basic human rights of Black individuals. I am sorry that the validity of your pain was debated by professors at the University of Ottawa, as well as various other institutions in society. I am sorry that you no longer feel safe and respected in an institution that is supposedly welcoming and intolerant of racism. This year has been a tough one and your university has not made it any easier for you and other Black students.

I wanted to write this letter to you because individuals like you, Black Muslim women, do not get enough credit for the emotional, psychological, and physical work you do to fight against anti-Black racism, Islamophobia, and sexism all-in-one and on a daily basis. I am aware that the intersection of your identities has been dismissed, which is why I decided to write to you to acknowledge the impact of your achievements and continuous effort.

If this gives you any hope, I am a Muslim woman of colour and though I might not share the exact identities with you, I look up to you. I am appreciative of the work you do, from your podcasts, to your engagement with civic leadership platforms. For example, when you were interviewed on TV to talk about the racist incidents at the University of Ottawa, you could have been using this time to work on your papers, which you mentioned had to get done. But instead, you chose to speak up on national television and reiterate that Black lives matter in academia and expand on why dehumanizing language like the n-word should not be used in educational settings. And that, in and of itself, takes courage, vulnerability, leadership, and commitment. This example is one of the many times where you have used your voice and area of expertise to fight against anti-Black racism within institutions and organizations.

If you ever have a rough day or second guess your impact, this letter is proof that you have more impact than you know. It is proof that the work you do is motivating and that your work is integral to blazing the path for individuals like me to continue your legacy. You are an incredible role model, to the point where words don’t do justice to the impact of your footprints.

Lastly, I know that you know this, but I wanted to remind you and emphasize that you belong to the University of Ottawa. You belong in every room you set foot in. You deserve and are entitled to respect, honour, support, and everything good in this world. You are not, nor will you ever be, an impostor. Take up the space that you need. Hold your space. It is rightfully yours and the world needs the work you do. You got this and I got you. I and many other Muslim girls are looking up to you and are here to celebrate your achievements. You matter. Your voice matters. Your work matters. And Black lives matter.

With love,
Nasma A
Third-year student
Sociology and health studies

Student & Letter Recipient Pair 2:
BRETT SZMUL & WEYNI MENGESHA

Weyni Mengesha
Weyni Mengesha is the artistic director of the celebrated Soulpepper Theatre Company in Toronto. She has been described by the Globe and Mail as “a talented director who knows both how to reflect the diversity of the country we live in today on the stage and excite a wide audience for new work.”

Dear Ms. Weyni Mengesha,
I write to you today, first and foremost, to thank you. Thank you for the work you are doing, both with Soulpepper Theatre and throughout your impressive career, in channeling your artistic creativity and telling the stories of everyday people. Thank you, also, for continuing to highlight diverse perspectives in that work, which is truly reflective of life in twenty-first century Canada.

My name is Brett and I’m writing this from a basement apartment in Prince George, British Columbia. (The pandemic being what it is, I’ve opted to continue my studies remotely from home and forgo the cost of living in Toronto.) I am a white, heterosexual, male Canadian, born and raised in a small town. I have had very few meaningful friendships or interactions with Black people or other people of colour in this country in my youth.

Part of my personal journey in education is to study and appreciate the diversity of this country and the narratives, experiences, and backgrounds that do not fit the convenient little box that so many folks like me have been fed our entire lives.

In researching your story, your background, and your work, I am inspired by the sheer output, through plays like da Kink In My Hair and Kim’s Convenience (a personal favourite of mine, though you’re likely used to hearing this!), which are truly able to transcend audiences throughout Canada and around the world and break down barriers. In your new role as artistic director of Soulpepper Theatre in Toronto, you refused to play it safe—taking a chance on promoting the stories that haven’t necessarily been told before, encouraging young people to engage with theatre and making the stage a more welcoming, inclusive environment for all communities. The work you do is vital to creating common links and uniting people through art and through the gift of storytelling—that universal, incredibly human trait. Thank you and keep shaking things up!

Best wishes,
Brett Szmul
Second-year student
Political science and history

Student & Poem Recipient Pair 3:
AMMAR ATTAR & DANILO DELUXO MCCALLUM

Danilo Deluxo McCallum
Danilo Deluxo McCallum is the creative director of Deluxo, a multi-media art and design company that created the vinyl wrap on the illuminated, three- dimensional Toronto sign in that city’s Nathan Phillips Square. Titled Patterns of the People, the vinyl wrap design is an artwork to honour the United Nations International Decade for People of African Descent, as part of ArtworxTO: Toronto’s Year of Public Art 2021.

Unity

Danilo Deluxo just tell me what’s popping
See the art in Toronto when I’m outside walking
Millions of words come from your pieces
without even talking

Put your soul into the art before it lays in a coffin
BLACK LIVES MATTER, it ain’t hard to understand
We’ve been saying it for years now it’s getting outta hand
These racists treat the world like they own all of the land
Funny how they think they were dealt a better hand

WE ARE ALL EQUAL, but why can’t they see?
We all came from Africa and moved overseas
You got a beating heart and a soul just like me
So doesn’t that mean that we’re the same, don’t you agree?

Black, white, brown, all different shades
but got the same beauty
Seems like the blacks are fighting the
longest game of Call of Duty
2020 turned into a war zone, feels like a movie
Don’t need a sequel because the first one was too spooky

All these protests could be peaceful but the racists made it worse
Imagine waking up to seeing your whole business burnt
All that effort you put in and all that time and all the work
They wanna make it right but just understand that they are hurt

Shout out to all the powerful Black people
on this mission
Can’t wait to see the day where all of you are winning
I know it’s hard, a lot of these stories are so chilling
But know that God has had a plan for
you from the beginning

Never lose sight, stay focused and keep the vision

Don’t let them make you think that
you are the super villain
There comes a time where all heroes
gotta make a decision
Fight for what’s right, or stay quiet about your opinion

Thank you, Deluxo, for your powerful moving art
Let me finally introduce myself, my name is Ammar
I appreciate everything you do for the community
Hopefully one day the whole world can stand in unity

Ammar Attar
Fourth-year student
Critical studies in equity and solidarity;
book and media studies

Student & Poem Recipient Pair 4:
NOAH FOSTER & OMISOORE DRYDEN

OmiSoore Dryden
Dr. OmiSoore Dryden is the James R. Johnston Chair in Black Canadian Studies in the Faculty of Medicine at Dalhousie University. She is an interdisciplinary scholar whose research is situated in Black Canadian thought, specifically Black queer diasporic analytics.

Dear Professor OmiSoore Dryden,
My name is Noah Foster and I am a student at the University of Toronto in the gender studies department. Your papers inspired me to write a poem about my own experiences with blood donation as a trans and nonbinary person. Thank you for your work.

My Story of Blood Donation:
Why is My Blood Bad?

I stare at the shiny gym floor mulling over the pages
“Have you had sex with ...”
“What medications have you taken ...”
These questions interrogate the most intimate parts of my life, and I am only 17.
Two weeks ago, I finished my cryopreservation treatment,
Hormones pumped in and out of my body just to put my future in a bottle.
In a month, I will start testosterone,
A medication that will validate my existence as a nonbinary transmasculine individual.
The woman tests my iron levels and double-checks my answers to the questions.
My feet wiggle nervously as I wonder if I should mention my surgery.
I ask her quietly, trying to keep my classmates from entering my private life.
She pauses for a second, unsure of what to say.
Ultimately, it was a no.
I walked out of the gym,
Embarrassed for trying to donate,
Embarrassed for missing class and coming back with no bandage on my arm.
Would people wonder why I was gone for a half hour only to come back empty-handed?
I often think about this day, three years ago.
It was my first encounter with the medical world in which my services were rejected
Directly because of my experiences as a trans person,
Because someone, some white cis straight man, said my blood was bad.

Noah Foster (they/them)
Third-year student
Women and gender studies; environmental studies;
and Indigenous studies

Student & Letter Recipient Pair 5:
HANNAH CURTIS & MICHÈLE PEARSON CLARKE

Michèle Pearson Clarke
Michèle Pearson Clarke is a Trinidad-born artist who works in photography, film, video, and installation. Her work explores the personal and political possibilities related to longing and loss and has been exhibited at galleries and museums across Canada and the United States. She is the inaugural artist-in-residence at the Mark S. Bonham Centre for Sexual Diversity Studies located at University College, University of Toronto, and the photo laureate for the City of Toronto.

Dear Michèle,
I would like to begin by introducing myself and outlining a little about how I came across your incredible work. My name is Hannah Curtis (she/her) and I am a student at the University of Toronto, as well as a self-proclaimed art-ivist. I first encountered your work during your artist-in-residence term here at the university. Since that first interaction, I have begun to follow your work. Your short Handmade Mountain and your exhibit A Welcome Weight on My Body are among my favourite pieces.

I believe that art is a far more accessible avenue of dialogue than traditional linguistic or talk therapy approaches. Art making and sharing is not only a form of wellness, but also of resistance and reflection for me. For the first five years of my life, I was non-verbal. The arts grant(ed) me the means to find my voice, to express my deepest fears and hopes, and to dream of a new and different world. I connect with your passion for creation and resonate with the need for alternate forms of communication. I appreciate how you engage with themes of (in)visibility and tensions of strength and vulnerability in your work. Your willingness to mediate these discussions in your pieces creates an opportunity to disentangle these narratives and ask us all to confront single rhetorics of Blackness and of queerness.

I am sure that whilst this work is often exciting, inspiring, and fulfilling, it may also feel like a burden to continually confront these discourses. Please know that your work is important. Your work is seen, appreciated, and needed, not only by me, but by so many.

Please take care of yourself,
Hannah Curtis
Fourth-year student
Urban studies; critical studies in equity and solidarity;
and women and gender studies

Student & Letter Recipient Pair 6:
LAUREN LEBLANC & SARAH JAMA

Sarah Jama
Sarah Jama is a community organizer from Hamilton, Ontario. Her lived experiences have fostered a passion for community engagement, disability justice, and activism. She is co-founder of the Disability Justice Network of Ontario.

To Sarah Jama,
Hello! My name is Lauren LeBlanc and I am currently studying equity, with a stream in disability studies and women and gender studies, at the University of Toronto. I am in the final year of my undergraduate degree and I am hoping to pursue a master of social work in the near future! I want to thank you for the work that you have done, not only in the disability community but also in the Black disability community. Often this intersection is completely avoided, with many people focusing only on the aspects of Blackness as a whole or disability as a whole, which of course is important on its own, but the focus on Black disability is also needed alongside works on disability generally. Your push for disability justice rather than disability equality is very important, as equality for people with disabilities is just the first step; we also need justice.

What stuck out to me in your work was your essay published in Diverlus, Hudson, and Ware’s anthology Until We Are Free, where you talked about your lived experiences as a Black person with a disability. I was also able to listen to one of your presentations at the University of Toronto in Anne McGuire’s introductory disability class last year. I was intrigued and receptive to your work, as I had never engaged with work regarding the intersection of Blackness and disability. As a Black woman with a disability, I felt at home in your words and experiences, finally able to have my reality confirmed in the reality of someone else.

You wrote how you thought your pain tolerance was built through years of doctors telling you your reality of pain and disability were fake, and that really stuck with me. As someone who has an invisible disability, I have had many instances of my reality denied, to the point where I started to deny it myself. Although informative, your essay provided a framework that I could finally use to view myself at an intersection I hadn’t deemed possible. Of course, I understood that racism had an effect on the way I was perceived with my disability and I also understood the concept of intersectionality, but even then, it’s hard to see yourself in a framework that is very rarely brought up.

Again, I want to thank you for the work you are doing in the community. I am very glad I was able to hear you speak in Professor McGuire’s class and that I was able to read your essay. I hope to see more works from you in the future, especially regarding the intersection of Blackness and disability! I do hope you are taking good care of yourself in these times and that you will continue to do so!

Lauren LeBlanc
Fourth-year student
Women and gender studies;
critical studies in equity and solidarity

Student & Letter/Poem Recipient Pair 7:
TIARA BEATON & ADRIAN HAREWOOD

Adrian Harewood
Adrian Harewood is a television and radio journalist and the co-host of CBC News Ottawa. He has been a guest host on national CBC programs As it Happens, Sounds Like Canada, and The Current. Before coming to television, he was the host of All In A Day on CBC Radio One in Ottawa.

Dear Adrian Harewood,
My name is Tiara Beaton and I am a third-year student at the University of Toronto. I study political science, French, and women’s studies and I am currently taking a course on Black Canadians, which is helping me to reflect on those whom I admire and the political and social change that must happen to dismantle systemic racism.

Upon reading your advocacy work and following up on the interviews you have done, for example the interview in 2016 with Farina Fekri, I was inspired by your demand for change within media. As you said, organizations are organic and organizations such as the CBC must scrutinize the ways in which they hire journalists and what stories are being told in
news to ensure diverse narratives and advocate for representation amongst varying races and identities. I admire how you use your position at CBC to hold senior leaders within the organization accountable to their oversight and their perpetuation of systemic racism.

Growing up as a biracial woman in Toronto, I witnessed the racism that my mother endured as a Black immigrant. Growing up watching the news, there were never many positive stories about Black individuals, nor were there many Black anchors represented within media. The media criminalized racialized communities, which reinforced stereotypes of the dangerous Black man or the angry Black woman. Systemic racism is a deep-rooted, historical issue that affects every political and social institution, but there are leaders like you who are not afraid to hold others responsible for their own inadequacies in order to rectify the exclusion of Black voices.

I am inspired by your passion for systemic change and your dedication to inclusivity and awareness, for example: your work with Black artists promoting their visibility within the arts community; participating in community events, such as Habitat for Humanity; and providing counselling for at-risk youth as a youth worker. Your activism through media and involvement to help stratified communities has inspired me to reflect upon ways that I can help within my community. I am inspired by leaders like you, who surpass people’s expectations of mindfulness and excellence. Thank you for all of your work and activism and thank you for inspiring me.

Tiara Beaton
Third-year student
Political science; women and gender studies; French

A World That Could Be
TIARA BEATON

Why do we have to grow up?
I want to stay young forever,
I want to run, crawl and play, feeling the warm sun wrap me in its arms,
I want to swim in the ocean that crashes against the rocks like an excited circus,
I want to run in the forests that embrace adventure and curiosity,
I want to jump on trampolines that laugh when I laugh,
I thought growing up meant making my own memories,
Memories that dance in the back of my brain and tickle me when I smile,
Looking up at the pale blue sky, without a cloud in sight,
Watching the reflections of the trees dance on the ocean like vibrant stained glass,
Feeling the softness of the wind go up my back and remind of the way the wind sways,
Reminding me of the way the nature tastes on my tongue early in morning,
Like moist melon dew, never bitter, never sour, soothing on my taste buds and
Joyful like the earth, I thought growing meant being a kid, and getting away with it.
I want to wipe my hands on my pants,
Wake up with the sunrise not the alarm, I want to use my outdoor voice,
Let it echo so loud it shakes the trees, wakes up the wildlife, and consumes my inner savage.
I want to stay young forever,
I want to run, crawl, and play, feeling the warm sun wrap its arms around me,
I want to experience the wildlife, capturing glimpses of quiet raging birds that sing their tunes And whisper, “This is how we all should be.” I want to feel the softness of each petal, each Colourful petal that doesn’t droop in the wind, no, these petals dance in the wind and sparkle and Shine, these petals grab onto each other, and everyone who walks by, whisking me away with its Sweet lavender scent, melting me in a world so warm, a world so accepting and free. This is How I want to be. I want to be molded, molded into the earth full of life, the earth full of glee, I Want to sing with the birds, and dance with the trees. I want to smell the fresh salty air, so clear, Yet so compiled, so free, yet so caged in. Why is my earth, our earth, so held back? Why can’t We all sway in the limbo of life and rejoice in our praises, overcome our misfortunes, and Appreciate what is beneath us, around us, and embracing us.

Unfortunately, this can’t be.
Who said it was okay for discrimination, alienation, racism, prejudice, sexism, stratifications and underestimations of our people to take place?
I look at the news, movies, television shows, parliamentary officials and yet barely see anyone with a similar face? Why has this world made it okay for society to disregard the representation, Equality, equity, accessibility or compassion of marginalized groups?
Why are Black, Brown and Indigenous people so left out in a world that refuses to recognize their Value? When I was young, I lived in an oblivious bliss,
I did not understand the stares my mom received when she walked in a fancy store,
I did not understand the glares my brother Jesse received when his behavioural problems from ADHD were considered to be nothing but an inherent defect of his black skin.
I did not understand the confusion from others when my mom with radiant dark skin would hold me, a fair skinned child, and assume that she was my nanny.
This world could be beautiful,
We all could look up at the pale blue sky without a cloud in sight.
We all could watch the reflections of the trees dance on the ocean like vibrant stained glass.
We all could feel the softness of the wind on our backs and be reminded of how the wind sways.
We all could sink in the serenity of nature’s beauty and taste the early mornings on our tongue,
But instead we are divided.
We all must grow up,
We all must recognize the social and racial imbalance that stains our beautiful world.
We all could live in a world so warm, a world so accepting and free.
This world is beautiful,
But we must work to see, a world that could be.