On Monday, June 1st, 2020, Christian Mbanza was momentarily locked out of his car. 

The 27-year-old grade-school teacher of Regina, Saskatchewan used an app to unlock his car. He waited for his phone to work for a moment, and when it didn’t, simply got out his keys. Nothing about the incident should have implied Mbanza was breaking the law when he was simply entering his own car, so why did a video taken by a neighbouring resident, captioned “Just happened on Keller ave watched the whole thing happen lock your doors!!” end up on the Greens on Gardiner Facebook group? Well, Mbanza is Black. 

The now-deleted Facebook post that targets Mbanza.

“If I was somebody with a lighter skin complexion, the results would have been different. I don’t think they would have automatically assumed that I was stealing,” Mbanza said in an interview with CBC. He went on to express that “I’m lucky that it just ended up on Facebook,” noting that things could have ended badly if he had lived somewhere else. 

This seems to be a common sentiment in Canada. Many are tweeting variations of a 2013 Robin Williams quote in regard to the country: “You are like a really nice apartment over a meth lab.” The implication being that Canada is innocent compared to what goes on in the States. But anyone who believes Canada to be innocent in regards to racism is sadly fooled. Yes, Canada is known as a friendly country. But the truth is we wear syrup-sweet smiles to cover up our genocidal history and violent present. 

Indigenous people occupied North America for thousands of years before European settlers arrived, bringing with them venereal disease, alcoholism, and business schemes. This weakened the Indigenous way of life, as they were not accustomed to any of this. It wasn’t long before the Indian Act was put forth in 1876, which was based on the premise that it was the Crown’s responsibility to care for and protect the interests of First Nations (the Indigenous peoples of Canada), when in reality it was largely concerned with the assimilation and “civilization” of First Nations. In 1883, residential schools were put forth as a method to further assimilate Indigenous children. These children were taken from their homes and enrolled in these residential schools, where they were forced to abandon their traditional language, dress, and lifestyle. More than 150,000 First Nations, Métis and Inuit children were placed in these schools and over 6,000 were killed, making the odds of dying in a residential school more likely than the odds of dying in World War II. Many survivors of these schools were subjected to verbal, physical and psychological abuse, which is a major cause of substance abuse and intergenerational trauma; this practice continued until the last residential school closed in  1996.

Stephanie Pierce graduated from high school in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan in 2018. It wasn’t until she enrolled in her school’s Native Studies course at the age of 16 that she learned of the severity of Canada’s treatment of Indigenous people. She recalls being shocked about the Sixties Scoop, which was a practice in the 1960’s that involved the RCMP “scooping up” Indigenous children from their parents and putting them up for adoption, usually to middle-upper class white families.

“We actually had someone who was a survivor of the Sixties Scoop come in and talk to us,” Pierce recalls. “She said she had no clue the true background of her adoption until the earlier 2000’s, and her adoptive mom didn’t know either.”

The survivor was eventually reunited with her birth mother at the age of 40. Until that day, her birth mother had no idea what had happened to her child. 

“When her biological mom gave birth to her in a hospital, people came in – I assume the RCMP – and took her away, and basically said she was too unfit to be a mother.” 

Taking Native Studies was a life changing experience for Pierce. Unfortunately, the class is optional and is only offered when enough students show interest, meaning that an important education often comes far too late – or not at all. 

Modern Canadian racism might not be particularly evident to someone who hasn’t experienced it, but it exists all the same. As of 2018, the federal government reported that 91 First Nations communities (excluding those in British Columbia and those without access to drinking water at all) were under long term drinking water advisories. Indigenous people make up 4.8% of Canada’s population but were one third of the victims shot by the RCMP between 2007 and 2017.  The tragedy of missing and murdered Indigenous women has been declared a national crisis, and yet a proper number cannot be estimated because Canada did not keep a database for missing people until 2010, but since 1980 that number is estimated to be in the thousands

As evidenced by Mbanza’s experience, racism isn’t exclusively directed at Indigenous people in Canada. The black community makes up 3.4% of Canada’s population and 9% of police fatalities. Black people in Toronto are 20 times more likely to be shot dead by the police than people who are not black.

(Above) A mural in remembrance of George Floyd, by Regina teenager Zoe Stradeski.

As peaceful protests break out across the country and #blacklivesmatter trends across multiple social media platforms, it may appear that people are making meaningful steps towards change. However, this movement is more than a trend. Black lives and other marginalized lives need to continue to be listened to and protected going forward. Calgarian Twitter user @deborahmeb expressed her lived experience in a series of tweets. 

“As someone who’s spent over 80% of my life in Calgary, experienced most of the racism I’ve experienced throughout my life in Calgary, I’m not only overwhelmed by the show of support this week, but I’m actually shocked.

Part of this shock is not actually appreciation but rather an indictment…It’s a ‘Where have y’all been this whole time?’ Before this week, FAR too many of you have been far too silent. I realize that before this week, I felt extremely alone in this. 

If you are truly ready to change that, my gratitude cannot be fully expressed. If you will commit to care for black lives, fight for black lives, to do the necessary learning to value black lives beyond this current moment, you will be doing a noble thing.” She then goes on to “Implore you to stand up for Indigenous lives with the same vigour.”

Sign petitions 

To demand that a transparent investigation is held into the actions of the police officers present when Regis Korchinski-Paquet died, you can sign the petition here.

To demand racial data on police-involved deaths in Canada, you can sign the petition here.

To demand justice for George Floyd, you can sign the petition here.

To demand justice for Belly Mujinga, the railway worker who died from coronavirus after she was spat on by a man claiming to have COVID-19, you can sign the petition here.

To demand justice for Breonna Taylor, the Black emergency medical technician who was fatally shot in her apartment by the Louisville Metro Police Department, sign the petition here.

To demand that the NL high school curriculum includes anti-racist books, sign the petition here.

To demand that the city of Calgary holds a public consultation on systemic racism, sign the petition here.

To demand that Toronto police wear and turn on body cameras when on duty, sign the petition here.

Donate

Donate to Justice For Regis.

Donate to Black Lives Matter Toronto or Black Lives Matter Vancouver.

Donate to the Official George Floyd Memorial Fund.

Donate to Belly Mujinga’s family, including her daughter.

Donate to the Toronto Protestor Bail Fund, which provides legal support to anyone protesting in Toronto.

Donate to The Minnesota Freedom Fund, which provides funds to pay bail for those protesting in Minnesota.

Donate to The Bail Project, which provides funds to pay bail for those who have been arrested during the protests. You can split your donation between the 39 bail funds (including the Philadelphia Bail Fund, the LGBTQ Freedom Fund, the Community Justice Exchange National Bail Fund Network and the Mississippi Bail Fund Collective) by clicking here.

Donate to the National Bail Fund Network, which includes a directory of community bail funds.

Donate to The Movement For Black Lives, a global initiative which aims to support Black organizations to conduct conversations about current political conditions.

Donate to North Star Health Collective, which coordinates and provides healthcare services, resources, and training to those protesting in Minnesota.

Donate to Unicorn Riot, which supports journalists on the front line.

Donate to Black Visions Collective, which centers its work to develop Minnesota’s emerging Black leadership to lead powerful campaigns.

Donate to Reclaim The Block, a grassroots organization that works to provide the Minneapolis community with the resources they need to thrive.

Donate to Say Her Name, a campaign that calls attention to police violence against Black women, girls, and femmes.

Donate to Justice For David McAtee, a Black restaurant worker killed by police in Kentucky.

Donate to I Run with Maud: an Ahmaud Arbery fund by his best friend.

Read

Stamped from the Beginning – Ibram X. Kendi

So you want to talk about race – Ijeoma Oluo 

The New Jim Crow – Michelle Alexander

Dying of Whiteness – Johnathan M. Metzel 

Zami – Audre Lorde

How to be an Antiracist – Ibram X. Kendi 

Lies My Teacher Told Me – James W. Loewen 

The Hate U Give – Angie Thomas 

Becoming – Michelle Obama 

Malcolm X – as told by Alex Haley 

Sister Outsider – Audre Lorde 

by Eleanor Kelman

When I first received news that my campus would be shutting down and classes would move to remote instruction due to COVID-19, my initial fear wasn’t directed at how I personally would adapt to the change; rather, I worried how my dad would fare. I had been living at my university in Boston, which quickly became one of the hot zones of the virus; however, once it became apparent that I would need to leave the bubble of my university housing, I only worried about the possibility of catching the virus. Though it does seem a bit shortsighted in hindsight, I truly believed I would be absolutely safe from catching the virus. At the time, the news was reporting that younger and otherwise healthy people would simply catch the equivalence of the common cold and recover without issue; therefore, I shrugged off the prospect of becoming gravely ill in the event I would become infected. However, once I realized I would need to head back home, I began to panic.

Like many others, despite not being in the at-risk group for COVID-19, I have family members who are. I’m living with my family at home, and my dad is immunocompromised. Even simply coming home from school made me nervous. Parties were thrown every night, and since I lived in a popular upperclassmen-only area of campus, these parties occurred directly outside my front door. I was at the crossroads of wanting to enjoy the final days of my college experience and not wanting to put myself, and subsequently my dad, at risk. I even considered trying to remain on campus or staying with my boyfriend’s family to avoid any chance of passing on the virus. Neither option would prove particularly feasible, and on top of that, my parents wanted me to come home so I could maintain a sense of normalcy.

My family is doing its best to act like we have the freedom to move around, but our need to be hypervigilant reigns supreme. My parents go shopping once every two weeks when the supermarkets open in the morning. We wear masks every time we leave the house to go on walks around the neighborhood. I’ve been keeping connected with friends via messages and video calls. At first, I found this to be a suitable substitute for actually living on campus close to my friends at all times, but lately, I’ve been feeling more and more antsy and fidgety. I have felt completely lost within my own thoughts for what seems like hours every day. The one time I got some reprieve when I drove to stay at my boyfriend’s house for a few days, I never left the car until I was at his house and reinstated my entire quarantine routine while there. When I returned home, I quarantined inside my bedroom for a week (with my parents placing food outside my door that I ordered by calling our home phone). My parents will crack the occasional joke about paranoia, but we understand that it’s something we all have to do in order to keep my dad safe.

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[Each of us has our own personal mask in my family. I got the groutfit one.]

It’s been difficult, to say the least. When I see friends posting on social media about going grocery shopping, I feel a pang of jealousy — my parents don’t allow my siblings and me to go to the store with them. I got plenty of messages like “Oh, that’s stupid!” when I documented my in-room quarantine to my Snapchat streaks, but it wasn’t stupid in my household. Sometimes I want to hop into my car and drive to the local hiking trail or shopping center just to get out of my head for a while, but I know that I shouldn’t. Maintaining safe quarantine practices isn’t all that essential for me, but it could be literally lifesaving for my family. I still can’t help those feelings of lamenting having to be so tightly-wound from sneaking in, though, no matter how much I know they are selfish. 

Whenever I get caught up in jealousy and a weird new-age type of FOMO I thought I had left behind at college, I find people in similar situations to mine. One of my best friends from childhood is severely immunocompromised and, for months, found themselves unable to leave the house just to take a walk. Many of my friends live with elderly family members and have been more worried than myself. Some people I know have even caught the virus themselves, know people who have caught it, or have come in contact with someone who caught it. I also know some people who are in the exact same boat I am with an immunocompromised member of the family.

In all honesty, it’s been a tough time for everyone. That being said, hearing how I’m not alone in my fears has made it a lot easier to handle. If I need to, I can call up a friend who understands my frustrations perfectly and just vent for an hour without feeling guilty. My support network has truly strengthened during quarantine, which was something I was not at all expecting when I said my “final” goodbyes to my friends before beginning the long drive from Boston. My friends and family have been there for me in a way I’m eternally grateful for, especially given that this has really challenged how close we are!
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[My beloved Google Calendar even has some standing friendship dates!]

Whereas remote learning was, pretty objectively, absolutely terrible, remote socialization has been lovely. People who I hadn’t seen in a while and had accidentally fallen off my radar (sorry!) due to my hectic pre-COVID day-to-day life have become my close friends again. I’ve been more inspired to reach out and initiate conversations, something I have always struggled with, due to the fact that there are no longer any real ramifications. After all, who is going to be too busy to video call? We’re all stuck here with too much time on our hands! And no one has lamented me being more active on social media; in fact, I’ve started commenting on posts of people I haven’t seen since high school who have found themselves elated to reinvigorate our friendships. Navigating and mastering social media to stay happy definitely had a bit of a learning curve for me at the start, but it’s allowed me to focus my energy on the people I really care about and fully nurture those friendships.

This isn’t to say that everything has been rainbows and sparkly unicorns and I love having the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to stay home and relax. I’ve been terrified to leave my house, but I am equally afraid of the ramifications that come with staying inside. I miss my friends dearly and wish I could say I am too busy rather than too bored. That being said, the resilience I’ve seen in everyone, including myself in a way I don’t feel uncomfortable bragging about, has been inspiring. Quarantine has had its fair share of negative side effects, but I think it has presented a feeling of “we’re all in this together” that I have never felt before. When I chat with my friends for the umpteenth time about my problems and see them listen intently, it makes everything feel just a little bit better.

By Colleen Boken

Throughout my time in college history and art history courses, I wondered after reading diaries, newspaper articles and other primary source materials, how would our current system of information gathering, with a massive amount of social media, a political climate unlike what has been seen before, and a radical changing of faith, would cope with an event of such significant magnitude.  

One might argue that we already know, given that in 2001, an event that rattled the United States as a whole changed the very fabric of how we travel. Yet, 9/11 was now almost 19 years ago, in an age when Macs looked like this (and they STILL HAD A CD PLAYER)!

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(Image via Wikipedia by Marcin Wichary)

Also, Facebook was still 3 years before launch, in a time before MySpace was even created. 9/11 was also a distinctly American event. Sure, security around the world changed, but no other country remembers 9/11 in the same way. Even people outside of New York, Pennsylvania, or DC remember it best because of the news coverage. Lastly, let’s not forget that kids right out of college now, born in 1996, barely remember, if at all, the event as a whole. Our entire student body is full of individuals who will now remember the COVID-19 quarantine as the defining historical event of their youth. It’s sufficient to say that the world this generation is entering into is not necessarily one of war, but one of health and politics.  

One must ask then; how will the historians of the future remember the events of the present? Admittedly, it is difficult to determine as history is not about predicting the future but instead making sense of the past. However, by applying a lens to our current situation, perhaps we can make some sense as to our present. 

Information is key to understanding any situation. The main issue of the past is that few people left remarks behind, and photo evidence can often leave us wanting more. Many people existed without leaving more than a passing note in a census of their very existence. We can only determine how things were by what was left by those individuals. In many of these cases, only the very wealthy were able to leave records that we could look back upon. 

Yet with the rise of social media, and sites such as the Wayback Machine, archives are becoming flooded with the digital realm. Take, for example, my Instagram. Over the course of the five years I’ve had my Instagram, I’ve posted at least 1,654 photos. Many of the places I’ve taken pictures of likely had never been preserved in such a way, such as this view of a nearly empty toilet paper aisle at the start of quarantine. Before the age of rapid digital photography and social media, images such as these would have no real purpose to exist. Now people can share images like this with the world. 

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(Photo by author in New London, CT)

It is not just in our Instagram posts either. Take this blog as a whole for example. In a way, it will serve as a sort of archive for future readers. What are seen as current thoughts and perspectives now will become primary/secondary sources in years to come. With a wide variety of authors and locations represented, Beyond the Pandemic will become a resource for future generations.  

Now, some argue that you cannot cite blog posts as “source material,” and that is true to an extent. A blog by anyone on the civil war may not carry much validity, but a blog written about the current situation by a witness? One has to make the argument that a blog in the latter case will serve to break the boundary, as it is not someone reading Wikipedia and writing about what they learned, but it is a witness describing their thoughts, sights, and overall notes on the situation as a whole.  

Lastly, this is a worldwide event. Unlike 9/11, which was largely focused on America, COVID-19 has spread, both literally and figuratively, across the globe, affecting nearly every country in different ways (some have not “reported” any cases). We all share in this lockdown, and the artists/writers are hard at work making sure we remember this event in every country. Archives are already starting to gather materials from this event, our digital memories preserved.  

So how will we remember COVID-19 after all of this? Will we remember the quarantine most or the political discussions more? What kind of world will exist after this, and how might it affect the way we live our daily lives? These are questions that nobody has the answers to, and will not for some time to come. As I sit here with the cat wondering why I have not left the apartment in a while, I can only speculate as we enter another week of quarantine. 

 

 

We come together in creative ways.  At the beginning of this pandemic, I had no perspective.  The only image I was ever able to create in my mind was this broken unrecognizable reality.  Globally, nothing was the way it was, and there was a major shift in everyday reality for everyday people.  Simultaneously, all of our lives were disrupted. As a community, we lost a lot. There was a period of time when we all started to pay attention to all the things we were going to miss out on.  Proms were canceled, graduations were destroyed, and people were physically getting kicked out of dorm rooms. Times were really dark for a while. As we began to settle in, our new profound realities scattered.  It got worse. Society was shutting down and the world was turning really dark.

It goes without saying that most of us took to social media—pain was felt and noticed on all platforms.  Frustrated by the lack of stability, we all fell into a vast global grieving process.  Anger from the lack of toilet paper. Anxiety by not being able to go outside. Fear from catching COVID-19.  It was terrifying. 

But something I noticed was that we didn’t stay there for very long.  Once we allowed ourselves to have an adjustment period for our new worlds of self-isolation, most of us got creative.  With the new and sudden boost of content on the internet, we tried to make the most out of it.

We came together in creative ways.  All across the planet, everyone was trying to help with this pandemic in every way possible.  We got fashion designers making masks and Shakira making hand sanitizer. My new favorite notification on my phone shows when people throw dance parties in their front yard.  The world is pretty cool. We’re doing some pretty cool things. I’m actively prioritizing my time to be here with all of you. 

I’m a 2nd-year college student from UCSB, so I live in Isla Vista—the most compassionate and united community I’ve ever had the chance to live in.  It astonishes me how other places aren’t like it. There is a standard of respect in the community.  We understand that everyone has their difficulties that life throws at them, meaning there’s no reason for why we can’t help them out.  They need to only ask, and usually they’ll find a helping hand. It’s a pretty cool place to live. 

I hope we continue to care for one another after all of this.  I don’t want the immediate response after COVID-19 to be a reversion to the hateful world that we were.  I want to see lasting change in the function of our societies. I want us to notice each other’s presence and respect them without question. That is what society should look like.  We have to get there. We have to use this to our advantage and plan and promote the societies we want to live in.  The only way through this all is together.  We got this. I love you guys.  – OG