Photo courtesy of The Toronto Star

By Samuel Getachew

Lance Armstrong once reflected on cancer by saying, “If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them. When you think about it, what other choice is there but to hope? We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell”.

Fight like hell was what the late Jack Layton did. At only 61 years old, he died earlier today from  cancer, which also claimed his beloved father at around the same age a generation ago. When he was diagnosed a year and a half ago, he promised he would fight and beat it like his father, former Progressive Conservative cabinet minister, Robert Layton. Ultimately, his courageous fight became shorter than anyone expected.

Less than a month ago, when he announced a temporary leave of absence from active politics, many Canadians paid a personal tribute to the giant he has become. Literally, thousands of Canadians reflected on the conversations they had with the Leader of the NDP at their corner stores, on their doorsteps, at the airport and in many other areas of Canada.

I had my first conversation with him when he was a candidate for the leadership of the NDP in 2003 at Carleton University. He was very unknown then. He was the grassroots leader who was just endorsed by former NDP Leader Ed Broadbent at the objection of his wife. Even superstar former Barenaked Ladies lead singer, Steven Page had become an outspoken supporter. Jack was the candidate that was expected to lose to one of the deans of the House of Commons, the respected Bill Blaike.

Not only did he win, but he also inspired many Canadians to be engaged to a political process that has neglected them for many years. It took Canadians some time to warm up to him, but he worked day in and day out to ensure his passion became as mainstream as he could. After all, how could progressive issues like human rights, and caring for the environment not be one. In a party that always looked back for inspiration, he was very modern and forward in his leadership style.

I had an extensive conservation with him at a fundraiser in Hull a few years back. He spoke to me for about two minutes and asked me if I had a napkin. When I pulled out one, he wrote his personal cell number and told me to call him so that we could allow the conversation to continue. On many occasions, I did just that. I called him when I had issues with the NDP as well as when I did have an event I was a part of in the Ethiopian Canadian community in Toronto.

At the event I invited him to, he always came with books he had written and always spoke highly of the hopes and dreams of our newest Canadians. When I spoke to him, he never asked me if I was a member of the NDP, which I was not, nor did he patronize me in any way. It was perhaps the first time that I had an adult conversation with a national leader. He seemed to have understood a citizenship dream that is bigger than oneself or a political party.

In his last letter to Canadians, he eloquently spoke of ” love that is bigger than anger, hope that is better than fear, optimism that is better than despair”. He continued by encouraging us to be loving, hopeful and optimistic. That he said could “change the world”. Then again, how can it not? That is the message he took to Canadians mere months ago and in return, they gave him the biggest electoral success in the party’s history. Like Terry Fox before him, his words and deeds will live on in the hearts and minds of all Canadians.

He will be missed!

By Audrey Reeves

Kingston, Jamaica- “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds” one of the most prophetic statement by the late reggae superstar Bob Marley. Albeit this statement was most likely intended for the international community, for our purpose, let’s assign it to Marley’s native country Jamaica.

What signs and symptoms were apparent in the Jamaican culture as manifested by Jamaicans to warrant such a quote? Well, one can only speculate as Marley is no longer around to elaborate. Suffice it to say, he wasn’t referring to the institution of slavery in which Blacks were enslaved by whites. Additionally, self-hate amongst blacks might have been an issue, but nonetheless ambiguous, therefore these signs and symptoms could not directly be attributed to the quote.

But what about the blatant and overt sign of self hate as manifested by behaviors such as skin bleaching? Was this even a concern when Marley made the quote? It might not have been an issue then, but undoubtedly has been wreaking havoc in Jamaica and other parts of the world over the past few years.

What is self-hate? More specifically, what is black self hate? According to Webster Universal College Dictionary: Self hate is self despise, self loathing, dislike of oneself, autophobia…. Black self hate is hating oneself because of the color of one’s skin, hair texture and facial features, such as broader nose and thicker/ fuller lips.

How could this be? Black heroes and pioneers fought relentlessly for us to gain acceptance, respectability and equality by and within our black communities and as well by mainstream. Well, we couldn’t say that our heroes: Marcus Garvey, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Nanny, Paul Bogle … fought in vain. No, that would be slanted. Let’s face it, the majority of blacks have a healthy self-esteem and self-concept but as Montel Williams stated, “self hate is a problem in most all cultures, but appears to be more prominent in the black community.” The problem is compounded by the fact that it is “misunderstood, unaddressed, underestimated and pervasive.”

Black self-hate is extremely insidious. This is partly due to the fact that  many blacks would not share with others that they are self haters. This silent destroyer of our people manifests itself in a variety of ways and sadly, it appears to cling to and afflict the young and vulnerable among us. This pervasive demon and destroyer of souls come in varying forms: substance abuse, self-mutilation, self-sabotage, self-deprecation, violence against self, violence against others, disregard for societal laws and the most insidious and most widely accepted behavior of all, self-bleaching.

The problem of bleaching has become almost epidemic in certain parts of the world in recent times. Take Jamaica for example, the problem has become so widespread that they sometimes have bleaching contests. Because the issue is national, the ministry of health and other authorities are warning of the health hazards that can result from bleaching one’s skin. Blindness, skin cancer and extreme sensitivity to the sun.

The most troublesome aspect of this issue though, is the fact that some mothers in Jamaica are using this toxic concoction not only on themselves but on their young, powerless and vulnerable children. This is tantamount to severe child abuse and neglect. Skin bleaching is not new to Jamaica but has become more national following the revelation by dancehall artist Vybz Kartel that he has been bleaching his skin. Kartel is very proud of his fairer skin secondary to bleaching.

It is no surprise that music is an excellent medium to communicate a message. Equally effective is the artist stance on certain issues. From its inception in the 1960s, reggae has been used to effect change: politics, racism and poverty to name a few.  Some reggae artists are seen as role models, the young and gullible mimic and model certain behaviors exhibited by these artists. It doesn’t matter what the message: positive or negative, violence, drugs, and just about any form of undesirable behaviors practiced by the “role model”.

Vybz Kartel

Not intending to delve into blame, but most of these young people who can afford to purchase bleaching cream are usually of a maturity level that allows them to decipher right from wrong. Therefore, it is a choice, albeit a poor and dangerous one. Just like choosing to go to college, break the law or go to church.

Borrowing from an article in the Washington Post, a lot of these girls who are bleaching claim a fairer skin allows for more opportunity. “The browning have more blys than the blackies” (more opportunities are available to lighter skin blacks than their darker counterparts). This is sad, sad, sad. Such a departure from the wisdom and self empowerment messages imparted to us by our freedom fighters and heroes. Marcus Garvey said it most eloquently when he stated,  “God and Nature first made us what we are, and then out of our own created genius we make ourselves what we want to be…” So in this powerful statement, Garvey reminded blacks that they are responsible for their destiny.

The question is, how did we as a people evolve to be such self-haters? Is it a spinoff from slavery where the mixed slaves would get more opportunities than the pure Black slaves?  But slavery was abolished more than 200 years ago! The act of enslavement has been abolished, but the mental slavery Bob Marley sang about is still very much alive and kicking.

One of the most salient contributing factors is ones upbringing–the values imparted from parents to children. When children are taught to love and respect themselves, they inevitably grow into adulthood with a strong sense of self. The opposite is also true. Parents are the first and most influential teachers. A friend once shared a very disturbing story with me. Jeff’s* mom continuously praised whites with blue eyes and commented that it’s a pity her children didn’t have them as they would be more beautiful than their brown ones. So imagine growing up in an environment where you are told you are not as beautiful as whites because your eyes are brown.  Disturbing and yet, we wonder why so many young blacks feel inferior.

Peers, television and other outside influences also play a major roll in how we perceive ourselves. A handsome, intelligent young man, John* shared one of the saddest stories I have heard. He said during his teenage years in Jamaica, he dated a class mate, Madge*, who he was quite fond of. He said they got on very well and he thought she would have become his wife. However, she looked at him one day and told him that he was too dark and she preferred his friend who was light skinned. Madge and John eventually parted ways. Nonetheless, John’s self-esteem took a nose dive. He said this impacted him so much that at one time he thought about marrying someone Caucasian. John eventually rebuilds his confidence and attends university in the US. While he was there he started studying the Rastafarian doctrine with the strong message of self love and acceptance.

How does one even attempt to rectify this problem? One thing is crystal clear, the problem of self-hate didn’t occur over night, and it will take a lot of hard work over an extended period of time to identify, define and eradicate this double-edged sword. In the meantime, how can we attempt to start dealing with this very serious problem? For starters, we can remind our kids, grand kids, nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters, grannies and just about anyone we can share the message with that “Black is Beautiful!”

Remember what the great one Marcus Garvey said: “The Black skin is not a badge of shame, but rather a glorious symbol of national greatness.” Oh! and by the way, Jamaica is home to some of the most beautiful people in the world. If in doubt, look at how many times Jamaica has won Miss World and Miss Universe in the international beauty pageant. It’s also home to the fastest runners in the world and some of the brightest minds. We as Jamaicans have so much to be proud of. And one more thing, Jamaica made history as the first (and only) tropical climate country to enter a bobsled race.

So let’s remind our young people to be proud of themselves, proud of their heritage and most importantly, love themselves. If the freedom fighters: Nanny, Dr. King, Sam Sharpe, Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X were self haters, we would still be an enslaved people to today.

So come on people, make our fore parents and our freedom fighters proud!

*name changed for privacy

Junior Alexander Manon

By: Anonymous

MAY 5th 2010:
Eighteen year-old Junior Alexander Manon and a teenage friend are subjected to a routine police traffic stop. By itself, this should come as no surprise – Black males are often the targets of ‘random’ stops by the police in numbers wholly disproportionate to their presence in the population. According to the official police record, Manon attempts to flee the scene on foot. The officers pursue the youngster and eventually bring him down. Minutes later, he is lying on the grass.

And he is dead.

Shortly thereafter, it is reported that Junior Manon – a healthy young man in the prime of his life -was the unfortunate victim of a heart attack.

Eyewitness accounts of the vicious beating that Manon received at the hands of those sworn to protect and serve were discounted by both the police and the mainstream media as the fevered imaginings of a community blinded by anger and pain. The severe bruising that turned his face into a misshapen monstrosity was likewise dismissed.

To date, no-one has been charged.

This was my introduction to Toronto – the city that my Canadian-born wife and I decided to relocate to after spending many years overseas. With our two Black boys in tow, we began to build our lives and lay the foundation for the realization of our dreams.

The murder of Junior Manon, however, stopped me in my tracks and compelled me to look more closely at the place that we’d chosen as our new home. This is what I have observed.

There is no ‘Black community’ per se – only disconnected individuals who are trying mightily to assimilate into the dominant (read: ‘white’) community and minimize, as much as possible, the genetic reality of their Afrikan heritage. That’s why there is no acknowledgement of fellow Black folks on the subways, buses, on the street. We are desperately trying to escape the prison of our flesh and to consciously greet a brother/ sister means that we recognize a commonality of experience, a kinship that we despise and want no part of.

Simply put, we are chasing invisibility (whiteness).

But then, here comes something that we cannot explain away: the cops give a righteous beating to a Black child and he dies at their hands. Whether Junior came from a family that voted Conservative and worshipped Stephen Harper; whether he was a straight-A student who only dated non-Black females – all of that was of no consequence. What the officers saw was a n**ger on the run.

No differentiation – one n**ger is the same as another, really. And we’re all just one act away from an extrajudicial execution.

So, here we are – the strivers, the assimilationist dreamers, the ‘we’re not like them!’ Talented Tenth crew – lumped in with the n**gers. They can’t tell us apart, despite our best efforts. And, despite our best efforts, our children still aren’t safe.

We are, at this point, confronted by two distinct choices. Either

1) we recognize that racial uplift is necessarily communal in nature – that is, it’s a team sport (ask any Jewish person) that benefits the individual through the provision of resources and numerous examples of what it means to be a balanced and contributing member of the racial/ ethnic group in question. In addition, building this type of community offers protection when persons within the racial/ ethnic group are singled out for attack. It is because of their deep understanding of this concept amongst Toronto’s Jewish community that the police wouldn’t dream of assaulting and killing Jewish children – there’d be HELL to pay and the perpetrators would have to be brought to justice, whether or not they carried a badge; or

2) we continue to shuffle through life, alone and vulnerable to the whim and fancy of anyone who wants to cash in on our refusal to build with one another in order to achieve a better future for ourselves and our children.

My suspicion is that we’ll continue to choose option (2).

That worries me deeply, because my sons will soon reach an age where they will be in the cross hairs of Toronto’s finest. They will grow up in a city where they will be expected to fend for themselves against the savagery of racist society that is not averse to revealing the snarling face of its bigotry through the state-sanctioned assassination of our babies.

And they will not have the buffer of a community that realizes that, despite their individual ethnic background (Guyanese, Ethiopian, Ghanaian, Trinidadian, etc.), they must rally around their common racial heritage in order to better their collective lot and provide a safe haven for their precious Seed.

Thursday will mark the one year anniversary of the slaying of Junior Manon. The men who snuffed out his tomorrows will continue to receive a salary, confident in their belief that they will never be made to answer for their unconscionable actions.

Life in this great city will continue as if he never existed. And the Black people in the GTA will continue to ignore the call to unify in defence of our children. Which means that it is only a matter of time before another mother and father – maybe this time, they will be Jamaican, or Somali, or Haitian – are left to mourn the untimely passing of a child ruthlessly cut down before his/ her time…murdered by the boys in blue.

Let’s not allow the N-word issue to be over-intellectualized into a debate that focuses on the style of language. The focus must be on the style of racist subjugation and hatred, including the pathologies of Black inferiority and self-hatred.

We need to go back to the relevant beginning of the N-word and that is the international slave trade. Slavery begot the N-word. There were no “niggers” before slavery. Slavery created the ugly, sordid hierarchy of skin that encompassed not just the hue of flesh, but also facial and body features. Let’s be absolutely clear that we are dealing with an insanity: The lighter the skin, straighter the hair, thinner the lips, pointier the nose, the better.

Speaking of noses, did you grow up having yours pinched? The working knowledge that guided my father’s path through life was an incredible and incredulous amalgam of street lore and old “nigger” tales. An example is this little ditty that guys of my generation thought cool to recite in the pre-Martin Luther King Jr. assassination era: “The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. But if the berry’s too black, it ain’t no use.” So, it seemed quite incredible that my father married my dark-skinned mother, until it is remembered that his working knowledge was an encyclopedia of Black male survival instruction full of conflicts and contradictions.

Obviously, he knew true beauty when he saw it. Yet, he could not free himself from the intrinsically evil racist hierarchies of skin hue and body type to overcome his fear that as his sons grew up their noses would widen and flatten out. So, he habitually pinched our little noses to ensure that we wouldn’t have “nigger” noses.

But it’s not that the N-word was ever used in my home — it wasn’t. In my family, and in my neighbourhood, saying the N-word was considered sacrilegious. It was almost as bad as denying the existence of Jesus. And that was worse than cussing. The word “coloured” wasn’t much liked, either. It was an ugly word often seen on signs such as, “No Coloured Allowed” or “Coloured Entrance”. It was a truly amorphous designation that relegated Black people to a kind of un-existence resulting in what Martin Luther King Jr. described in his Letter from Birmingham Jail as a “degenerating sense of ‘nobodiness.’”

At one end of this spectrum of racist and dehumanizing invisibility existed the insanity of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man. At the other end were Black men who worked as railroad sleeping-car porters and were all called George. Negro was actually the preferred term, at least, until the mid-1960s. It was a very proper noun. Considered sophisticated and politically correct, the name Negro was nevertheless a designation imposed upon Black people.

Which brings us to the word “Black”. During my childhood, to call a Black person Black was considered an insult. To be Black was to be an undignified, uncouth and ugly being of African descent. When there were arguments, as there were in my house between my paternal grandmother and my mother, I frequently heard phrases such as “You’re just a Black” cast as stones. Of course, these stones were being hurled at my mother.

My practically white-looking grandmother, on more than one occasion, strongly suggested that my father had made a big mistake marrying a girl as dark as my mother. These arguments would occur within earshot of my brother and I. What were we supposed to think? Well, that being Black was nothing to be proud of.

Still, nothing was worse than the N-word. There was hell to pay — guaranteed — if you called somebody a “nigger”. It was equivalent to saying to someone that they should be dead. Within the context of race relations between the African Diaspora and European settler-states, the N-word had been used as a weapon to exact psychological and emotional damage meant to deal a deathblow to the self-respect, dignity and humanity of Africa and her Diaspora.

That Blacks used and continue to use the N-word as self-descriptive and cruel epithets only verifies the past and continuing success of the slave-making process. A people who defile their own humanity cannot expect that others will not do the same. A people with no self-respect and dignity cannot raise themselves out of bondage. What is at stake here is nothing less than the restoration of Africa and her Diaspora to full membership in the human family.

Let’s cut to the nitty-gritty of the issue of the style of language versus the use of language as a tool of redemption and liberation. I’ll pose a simple question: Why are the lyrics of James Brown’s famous anthem not, “Say it loud, I’m a nigger and I’m proud”?

During the Civil Rights and Black power eras, it was a given that success could not be achieved unless Blacks were able to, “Say it loud, I’m Black and I’m proud”. It was necessary to transform Blackness into a source of pride and strength in order to strive for truth, justice and peace. This required the nullification and condemnation of the N-word. The cause was taken up by brothers off the block — known variously as Block Boys, B-boys, the underclass, lumpens or gang-bangers — who, at the height of ’60s era Civil Rights and Black power activism, largely forbade the use of the N-word within their milieu.

These days, we lament the recurrence of N-word usage among those who style themselves as part of hip-hop culture. The commercial music genre known as rap is derived from African oral and rhythmic performance traditions in style, though not necessarily in substance. The substance of that tradition is one of passing on inspiration and knowledge for surviving, thriving and driving freedom foreword.

It is necessary to get the mind off the road leading to shiny metals and treasury notes in order to know how truly powerful Black art can be. Of particular relevance is the art of the godfathers of rap: The Last Poets and Gil Scott Heron. I have spoken with kids who have never heard of them. Those masters of the spoken word knew that in the begging was the word and the word did not begin with the letter N. It began with the letter F, as in freedom.

By Dean Lloyd

And as I make that statement, I must also say that from a market segmentation standpoint in this country, one could argue that black Canadians have never been seen as a viable target.   With ethnic marketing only now gaining any real traction in the industry, it may be that the time for targeting the black community has passed, as 3rd and 4th generations of Caribbeans are now assimilating into the Canadian landscape.

When you consider some of the key tenets used in identifying an ethnic market (or multi-cultural if you prefer), including language and culture, black Canadians have always satisfied the requirements, including having their own media outlets. However, for whatever  reason, this group seems to be playing a considerable second fiddle to rapidly growing South Asian and Chinese communities.

At the 2010 Multi-Cultural marketing conference in Toronto, it was a sad reality to see that in attendance there were no African-Canadian media or associations other than Sway Magazine.  Is it that these groups no longer see themselves as an ethnic market or are they simply ignored by the industry as a whole?  Don’t misunderstand my commentary as suggesting that there is no support of black community events like the recent and annual Caribana parade in Toronto (the largest of its kind in North America), but one-off promotions and events tied to Cinco de Mayo, Kwanza or Chinese New Year can’t be and aren’t considered a serious approach to ethnic marketing any longer.

To be successful, ethnically oriented marketing should be part of a year-round campaign and must be sensitive to the diversity of target cultures. I believe that there are few if any Canadian companies beyond those whose products are clearly geared towards that market who have taken a holistic approach to reaching this market.

To be fair, it certainly doesn’t help that there exists so very little usable research data on the afro-Caribbean community in Canada, a reality that we should all be rather ashamed of.

Did you know that;

• 70% of all population growth in Canada comes from immigration.
• Today African Canadians, Asians, Hispanics and Italians represent 12% of the population
• According to the 2006 census, Canada is on track to becoming 100% dependent on immigration for growth.
• The country’s fertility rate is just 1.5 children per woman, far below the 2.1 needed to replace the dying population (baby boomers). However, with an overall population growth of 5.4 per cent, Canada had the highest growth rate among G8 nations.

It is not entirely clear whether the community itself has given up on the advertising industry in Canada or if, in the eyes of the industry, the black community simply is not worth the investment, but from my standpoint, it would appear that the maturing nature of the black community and slow immigration from the Caribbean has stalled its ability to command the attention of this country’s marketing community. Giving me reason to believe that black Canadians are no longer an ethnic market, but simply part of the mix.

Dean Lloyd is Principal of Verb Marketing & Creative in Toronto, Canada, and is also co-founder of Cornucopia (The Association of Ethnically Diverse Marketing & Communications Professionals) and can be reached at [email protected].

Rochelle DickensonBy Samuel Getachew

Too often in our search for big and popular stories, we neglect to celebrate special everyday achievements.

There are countless Canadians who freely give their time and expertise to help us produce strong and vibrant communities all across Canada. They might not be big household names yet, but their work and dedication to community building is evident by the decency of our land.

Pastor Wendell Brereton

By Samuel Getachew

In announcing his short-lived Toronto mayoralty campaign, Trinidad born Pastor Wendell Brereton spoke passionately about  his vision for prosperity that included “a strong city that not only attracts foreign investment, but ensures that these corporations hire our citizens. We must create a priority status for our residents when it comes to jobs.”

The outspoken young leader of many titles, including father of five young children, spoke to Sway about crime, youth issues and how to balance his many responsibilities while contributing to the fabric of a great city.

You are a person of many distinct titles, including former police officer, pastor, political leader and above all father of five. How do you balance all these?

The balance of leadership in the community and leadership at home is a delicate one for many leaders, and I am not immune to the strain. The most important job and the most difficult is parenting. It is the one job that you are never given training for and there is no set job description. You are both boss and employee. My children are my legacy and, therefore, they are the repository of my greatest investment. I believe that all of my leadership skills have derived from that job. I am their coach, their cheerleader, their teacher, their friend, their example, and they need most of all consistency and honesty from me about my strengths and my weaknesses. They are always evaluating my sincerity and using me as their example for what they want out of life and even what they do not want.

As the Pastor of a church, I have the privilege of holding the most sacred office that a man can have. This office of clergy reaches across racial boundaries, reaches past generational and gender specificity. It meets people at their lowest point and builds them back utilizing the building blocks of self-esteem and purpose. It advocates with a shout when their voice is a whisper. It is courageous to defy the pop culture of non-traditional popular opinion. It loves even when it is despised and smiles even when it is smitten. It carries the honour of President or Prime Minister and for most of us the pay cheque of slave. Yet as clergy, we stand as a cornerstone of our communities and those communities stand upon our shoulders as we stand upon God’s word. It is the only office that ministers to the immaterial soul of man, the most precious human possession. It is the reason that I do all things with a sense of excellence, temperance and passion. It is the compass of my life ship, hence my balancing force.

The issue of crime, especially among our youth, must concern you. How can we  end this in our communities?

Crime in general is a concern to me, yet I do not see the youth of the black community as the demographic of crime. I see them as vibrant, talented and powerful. What I do see is a lack of institutional mechanisms that allow those same youth to achieve at the highest levels. Economic limitations are the antecedent to many of the issues of our young people. The institutional barriers that fail to assist the parents of those children to live at a standard of life that allows them to pass on wealth to those children is the chief culprit and the criminal footprint that socio-economic investigators fail to identify. In my bid for mayor, I made a remark on the debate floor aimed squarely at our sitting Mayor. Mayor Ford, at the time Councillor Ford, was establishing what he has done historically in the black community especially in the areas of sports. This is a commendable accomplishment of the Mayor while he was a councillor in the recreational life of these kids, but my comment spoke to this misdiagnosis of the plight of the urban youth.

“Stop building basketball courts for the black community, if you want to give my kids something give them a bank,” I said. My sentence, although said in jest, truly identifies my personal issue with the status-quo regardless of their philanthropic attitudes towards the black community. The lack of finances in the households of our youth is the debilitating issue. Poor parents in any community will be the ones that are at risk with youth who explore criminal behaviour. Where are our strong upper middle class black communities in this country and in this city? Where are the black financial institutions, corporations, landowners, professionals or even politicians that will insist our constituency has the wealth to ensure the career paths of youth? In the black community, poverty is as hereditary as Sickle Cell. We see some leaders among black Canadians rising to the forefront now, my hope is that they band together in the indigenous fashion of their pre-slave ancestors and build the village of the black community. When we do this, the fashionable topic of our community will no longer be “youth crime or gun violence.”

The simple truth is that African Canadians of all diasporas do not control any major financial institution. Neither do we control government policy, nor are we even able to utilize nepotism in the public sector to get our children elected to office or appointed to positions of civic or national control. What do we tell our children? Work hard, go to school and you will get a good job. Yet we can rarely pay for their education or model the great employment we enjoy due to our own hard work. That is the real crime in our community.

You were a recent mayoral candidate and then a City Council candidate. As an emerging political and religious leader, were you disappointed with the political participation of the black community?

In my bid to be an elected official of the City of Toronto I realized very quickly that it was not the black community that did not support blacks running for public office. I realized it was the media that did not support minorities running for public office. Most blacks are very conscientious about politics when they identify how a specific candidate can affect their life. The post Obama era has definitely flipped the political switch of our community worldwide. Africa right now is alive with political revolution. However, in 2010, in Toronto municipal politics, there was a media “blackout” if you will. The grass-roots black media spoke for us, the mainstream media ignored us. Black columnists from mainstream newspapers called me on the phone yet they never wrote about me. Black candidates never got the coverage until the public outcry forced the media to mention some of us in passing.  It has gotten to the point where the historical black politician has had to down play his conscientiousness to his community and pander to an Anglo-Canadian audience just to be taken seriously.  Therefore, I am not disappointed whatsoever with my community. My community cannot vote on candidates they never hear about. Again, the lack of black institutions is the cause. There is no mainstream black media. “Flow 93.5FM” was the mainstream voice that was most recognized by our community yet even this station was extremely silent about 2010 elections and the candidates of colour.  Also in the black community, we still do not understand the power of living in the same ward. We are spread out all over the city so that there really is not a strong black vote in any one ward. Changing the planning of our communities drastically changes the voting. Strategically planned middle- and upper-middle-class communities of blacks will cause civic awareness and involvement to change.

When you withdrew from the mayoralty race to endorse Rob Ford for Mayor, the media kept referring to you as an extremist. How did you feel about that?

Once my endorsement of Rob Ford ignited his campaign in the eyes of the media, the media came to attack him not discredit me. My endorsement of Mr. Ford was the catalyst to eight weeks of front-page covers, radio shows, blogs and water cooler conversation. The Judeo-Christian outlook is not a position of extreme ideology. The evangelical opinions of the traditional family are widely known and accepted in Canada. Calling me an extremist was more of an attempt to derail Rob Ford than to assassinate my character. The media showed up when I withdrew, that is the tale of the tape. The liberal media did not care when I was in the race. They did not consider me to be an extremist while I was a candidate; they did not care what was on my website then.  Yet it cared a great deal when I picked the proverbial dark horse and exited the race. The full might of the status quo descended on us. Our small flock and the affiliate churches that support me were attacked on every side. Even C.R.A took their turn attempting to audit the churches that are in our affiliation. Showing clearly that the government and the status quo considers it objectionable that the black community and especially the fundamental Christian church attempted to be a voice for change.

Individuals who attended our churches had to defend themselves to co-workers and the iron doors of opportunity started to slam shut all around us due to my endorsement of this current m,ayor. We certainly paid a cost but the cost was not guilt of conscious, nor the abandoning of our beliefs. Mr. Ford was not the front-runner when I endorsed him, Mr. Smitherman was. Mr. Ford was considered to be the extremist and my endorsement of him I believe woke up the church, the black community, and all ethnic communities alike to our ability to affect local politics. It demonstrated that even if we cannot be the winner we could at least pick the winner.

You have been described as a role model by many. How important is mentorship in the community?

I humbly say to those who consider me a role model, thank you for the vote of confidence in my character and my efforts to help all peoples in Toronto. Mentorship is extremely important. Nevertheless, my definition of mentorship is unique. How can you mentor a hungry child? Do you speak to him and encourage him first or do you feed him? I am certain you will agree that a child needs to be fed before he can learn. The black community is that hungry child who is starving in the economic and political cold shoulder of our city and country. I want to mentor a generation by putting the tools in their hands for prosperity and wealth. I want to stop telling them half-truths about the power of education, if they are only going to leave school and work for minimum wage. How can I coax the gun out of their hand if all I am putting in their hand is a welfare cheque, a $500 scholarship or a handshake?

My mentorship must not just give them information and perspective, but also open doors that they alone could not open. However, how do I open those doors for them if they are slammed shut for me? How do I tell them not to be upset when I too wish to kick down the doors that have kept us from sitting at the head table? How do I tell them to stand tall if the glass ceiling in the corporate world for most of us only allows us to kneel and bow? I do want to mentor a nation of men, women and children to be all they can be.  I want to collaborate with businesspersons, politicians and professionals from every occupation every ethnicity in Toronto, Canada, and the world that can expose the racialized and marginalized men and women from every class or culture to the marketplace. The status quo will attempt to water down my words and point to the few of us who have made it and say, “it is not so. Rev. Brereton is painting a dark picture.” Be not fooled, my picture speaks to the history and the reality of the many and the expectation of this current generation who awaits the interest payments and dividends on 40 acres and a mule and a western “promised land” flowing with milk honey and money.

Any parting words?

In closing I leave you with this at the Glorious Church we teach a message of spiritual and social empowerment. Every person has the right to live a life that maximizes his or her potential. The secret of how to do it is by utilizing the synergistic power of unity. In the unifying of our weaknesses, we arrive at greatness. In the presence of our greatness, there is great prosperity and joy. Ancient men built great structures, modern man builds great systems, but a man looking to build a great future must build great relationships. Lets us all build together.

Poet Motion

By Adebe DeRango-Adem

Motion was born Wendy Braithwaite in Toronto to Antiguan and Barbadian parents. She adopted the name “Motion” because it depicted the rate at which she began showing her talent. Heavily influenced by the reggae, calypso and soul music of her childhood, Motion’s creativity extends beyond writing spoken word and hip hop. Her career accolades include a MuchMusic nomination for Best Rap Video Award and the UMAC Award for Best Hip Hop Radio Show.

Sway caught up with Motion to discuss her biggest influences and to find out what really makes her move.

When did you first discover the power of words? Did you write as a child?

Probably before I could actually write. I was always singing, talking, always had songs in my head, taped them on a recorder. We had a lot of records, and mashed up between all the music – reggae, calypso, dub, soul, funk, sound/tracks from Louise Bennett, Richard Pryor, Linton Kwesi and Malcolm X. Isaac Hayes used to start his songs with these long soliloquies. My uncle was a poet. This is what I was hearing while I was growing. I started writing when I was probably around seven. I had a book to write about what I did each day, stuff like that. But then it started growing into writing songs, lyrics, rhymes and then poetry.

At what moment did you realize that you wanted/needed to be a writer/poet/spoken-word artist?  Was there a moment, or was it more of an unfolding series of experiences?

Each phase is inspired by different things… discovering b-sides, meeting power, building with Althea Prince, driving into drama. Each of these and more each time put me on the next trajectory, but I think everything’s been there from the beginning.

What initially prompted you to write your most recent poetry collection, 40 Dayz?

The seed for 40 dayz was planted when I was taking a poetry workshop with Dionne Brand. My challenge was to stretch my style, try new forms and write a body of work on a central theme. I wanted to write a collection where each piece connected, a journey. 40 dayz represents elements of that journey – artistically, personally, spiritually, historically, the mountains and floods, rituals and rebirths.

You have opened for/shared stages with such renowned artists as Mos Def, Wyclef Jean, Talib Kweli, and Jill Scott.  How have these experiences inspired your work?

It’s inspiring to share the stage with respected artists, to witness other artists at work, and be a part of creating that energy. It’s confirmation to keep pushing to the next level, and affirming how much the North brings to the table. Music has always surrounded and run through me, it’s a passion. Poetry to me is one of the foundation elements. It’s that space where word and music merge. It’s visual and oral, read, heard. It’s rhythm, beat, pitch, volumes, silence. And at the same time, it’s literature, lyrical, comical, dramatic, epic. It’s emceeing, storytelling, spoken word. It’s loud and quiet. Music and poetry, word/sound, share an intertwined evolution.

You provide powerful spoken word workshops for youth.  What goes into the process of organizing these workshops?  What is a strong workshop session composed of?

I love working with new talent. Community and arts organizations in the city are promoting workshops incorporating spoken word, poetry, hip hop: ArtStarts, Blockheadz, Urban Arts, A.M.Y. Project, Lost Lyrics, bcurrent, Women With Wordz and Literature for Life. It’s a way to engage youth, introduce them to the art form, empower voices, tell stories, deal with what’s going on personally and communally. In schools, the poetry unit has been one of the hardest to teach, so some teachers are opening up to spoken word and lyricism to engage students and show the poetic word is relevant, accessible and real. It’s a valuable space for developing emerging writers and artists, and building a new generation of writers. The main thing about workshops is providing a space to develop new talent, to find the connection, and jump off from there, explore the poetry in everyday spaces, real life situations. It’s also creating a safe space to share, experiment and risk. After the brainstorms, free-writes, finding memory, exploring the senses and s/language, painting pictures with words, exploring styles, flow and stories, the goal is to inspire new insights, new voices and the next level of creation.

Who are your favourite writers?

If I had to start a list, it would begin with the writers that made me fall in love with reading in the first place: Maya Angelou, Rosa Guy, James Baldwin, Richard Wright, Langston Hughes. My mom intro’d me to the classics – Things Fall Apart, Miguel Street, If Beale Street Could Talk. I discovered Sonia Sanchez, Edwidge Dandicat, The Bridge of Beyond. And among that foundation, there are emcees, songwriters, playwrights, and numerous Northside poets and novelists like Althea Prince, d’bi.young, George Elliot and JWyze.

How do you see the role of spoken word/oral traditions within the larger project of recognizing, preserving and promoting the contributions of Black peoples and their collective histories?

In many ways, our oral/aural culture has been a mode of survival for us. When original texts were lost, kidnapped, destroyed, when our languages became contraband, when the audacity to read or write could be punishable by death, our voices, chants, songs, proverbs, stories, jokes, codes, remained a crucial communication. It still is.

The movement is documenting oral culture – rap anthologies, spoken word collections, scholars writing on toasts and dub. There is digital dissemination, global collaboration, audio/visual poetry, the perpetual recording of everything. And that raw mouth to ear experience continues – performance spaces where we share philosophies, ciphers where skills are challenged, open mics to try new work and discover the next new voices; slams where the poet and audience become a intertwined entity. The poetic innovation will continue to build upon that foundation.

Do you have any advice for young or emerging writers trying to get their work heard?

Write, perform as much as possible, discover what makes your voice, story, style unique. Experiment: try new things. Study the art, go to open mics, watch poetry online, listen, read poetry, old and new. Also, be independent; show your hustle, blog your work, record your pieces, make film shorts, promote a poetry jam or underground show in the spaces within your own community and beyond. Join a theatre workshop, poetry program, youth media collective, urban arts organization; this opens up opportunities to work with professional artists and mentors to develop your work. Build your network. Do whatever you can to be heard, read, seen and felt, and more opportunities will come. And read, read, read. Know we are all blessed with a gift/s; take the time to know yours.

What author in history would you have loved to have a coffee (or tea) and chat with, and why?

John Coltrane. He composed, he spoke with music. The vibes he put out inspired a lot of things, scripts, poetry. But I’d wanna be in the rehearsal studio with him, instead of coffee. And Zora Neale Hurston… jus because.

Are you currently at work on any new projects?  Where can we go to hear or find your work?

I’m writing a new book. I’m developing dramatic/poetic work for theatre. My play Aneemah’s Spot will be published by Playwright’s Canada Press this spring in the Obsidian Collection. And I’m building my new show and mixing my live album. It’s been a time of creation. Soon come – dissemination. Log on to motionlive.com  

Click or more information Motion’s new work, click 40 dayz

"Finally, Kenya is calling me. My crystal ball tells me the time is right. My son did not die for me not to try to change Kenya one more time!" -- Flora Terah

By Flora Terah

I was born on the slopes of Mount Kenya in the East Province of Kenya right after our independence from colonial rule. I am the seventh of nine children from a very conservative middle class family. Throughout my life, I have been witness to so much gender disparity, from my own family and from the educational institutions that I attended.

Now in my adopted country of Canada, as I learn about the great history of our past, especially of The Famous Five and their historic struggle in 1929 trying to find the definition of the word “persons” (in section 24 of the British North America Act of 1867), I look with amazement as Kenyans are still asking that very same question.

Asking that question, once asked by these heroes, cost me the life of my beloved son.

My journey of activism began after giving birth to my son at a local hospital where up to four women shared a single bed in the maternity ward. Women who arrived at the hospital without their own supply of anaesthesia were stitched up without any medication. Hundreds of new mothers unable to pay fees were detained in health care facilities. I was among those women. From then on I swore to address women’s oppression.

I witnessed politicians pilfering money earmarked for hospitals, and unpaid staffers extorting patients and stealing supplies for use at private health facilities. By the time President Kibaki was elected in 2002, on a platform of reform, most public hospitals were little more than shells sheltering demoralized and bitter employees.

Soon after a progressive woman politician, Charity Ngilu, was appointed as the minister for health, the first order of business was to push a bill through to waive maternity fees for women unable to pay. Yet more than 20 million Kenyan women share a total of two mammograms and most deliver their babies on the floor.

The country’s health facilities are in shambles and political will to reform the health sector is faltering. Many backward policies that target women are still the norm in many parts of the country. For example, until a referendum changed the laws last year, female genital mutilation, polygamy, child marriage, wife sharing, widow cleansing and women forbidden from inheriting and/or owning land was legal.

The new charter at least got women out of hell and heading to Canaan. We have to continue to break the walls of discrimination and penetrate all spheres of leadership if we are to see continued change. With our sheer numbers alone, no mountain is too high to climb if we join hands.

In spite of living through these horrible conditions, I managed to emerge as a spokesperson and community worker, educating on HIV/AIDS, talking to both men and women about sex and sexuality and the use of condoms. But it wasn’t until I got into active political participation that I truly knew that I had to speak out on laws that governed my country.

In 2005, I became an emerging voice on gender and governance issues when I was recruited to train for a United Nations funded program for women. The government that had been elected on a platform of reforms and zero tolerance of corruption had disappointed many Kenyans. And as women, my friends and I felt like we needed to take matters into our own hands.

As women, we had strength in numbers. But we needed to be strategic if we were to win elections both at local and national levels. After a year, I was asked to run in the 2007 election against a powerful incumbent who got caught up in a corruption scandal and was forced to step down. The whistleblower fled for his life. That year, 200 women ran for office and I became a leading candidate for a seat in Parliament in a constituency that had never had a woman as a representative. A feeling of excitement and change was everywhere. As polls about our growing power started to emerge, I was abducted and tortured, my hair ripped from my head and mixed with human waste before it was forced down my throat; my leg was broken, my neck dislodged; I was left for dead. In the hospital for weeks, I was no longer able to campaign. I lost the race.

Six months later, my only child was murdered. And justice seemed far away. To recover, I took comfort in words and wrote a book They Never Killed My Spirit But They Murdered My Only Child was written at a time when the world had shut its doors to happiness, love, peace, joy and laughter. I was going through the most difficult moment ever in life.

After I left Kenya, new elections gave way to more women parliamentarians. A new constitution now includes for all gender representation in the socio-economic and political arena; women are finally on a more level playing field. Just a few months ago parliament vetted eight incredible, intelligent and non- corrupt young Kenyans to head the judicial commission under a new constitution. Soon Kenya will have a new chief justice and a new attorney general and all judges will be vetted for competence and probity.

For the first time, before my eyes, even from afar, from the comfort of my Toronto apartment, the role of women is beginning to be recognized and the rule of progressive law respected. That is why in a few months, I will pack my suitcases and go back to Kenya. As a candidate, I was beaten; as a citizen, my son was killed. What they have not taken is my willingness to see what I have learned, observed and loved while in Canada, now reflected in a new Kenya that I want to be a part of.

Finally, Kenya is calling me. I have to go and serve my people. My crystal ball tells me the time is right for me. My son did not die for me not to try to change Kenya one more time!

Liberal Leader Michael Ignatieff

Samuel Getachew talks with Michael Ignatieff about Black History Month

What is the significance of Black History Month to you?

Black History Month is not just a chance to recognize some of the Canadians who serve as an inspiration to all of us – great figures in our history like Judge George Carter, the Hon. Lincoln Alexander and Ferguson Jenkins – it is also an opportunity to celebrate and encourage the contributions of young black Canadians who are going to play a leading role in defining the Canada of tomorrow. These are the kids that I’ve met in school gymnasiums, in community town halls and in open mike events across this country. To honour their hopes and aspirations is what the Liberal vision for this country is all about.

Name one African Canadian you admire.

Jean Augustine, as a Liberal MP back in 1995, introduced the first motion, passed unanimously in the House of Commons, to recognize Black History Month across Canada. In her time as an MP she also served the constituents of Etobicoke-Lakeshore so admirably that she has always been my example to follow as a parliamentarian.