Who decides who looks like a Canadian? Who is assumed to be Canadian and who are the folks that are constantly asked that question: where are you from? And on answering, hear the follow up - no really - where are you from?
The rallying cry for Labour Day 2019 in Ontario was ‘Unite Against Racism’. The slogan and sentiment meant to acknowledge the troubling rise in white supremacy and xenophobia across the province and the country signaled a coming together of progressive forces to combat this scourge that has a material impact on the lives of Black, Indigenous and people of colour, including racialized (im)migrants and refugees.
August 1, is emancipation day, a day when African Canadians along with others of the African diaspora throughout the Americas (including the Caribbean) and Europe, reflect and pay homage to the ancestors who resisted and survived their enslavement as an African people, so that we can be here… so that I can be here.
APPEL D’OFFRES
Conférence de développement professionnel OCASI 2019
Toronto, Ontario
17 et 18 octobre 2019
Date limite de soumission: mercredi 31 juillet 2019
Cliquez ici pour l'appel d’offres en anglais [English]
Faites défiler vers le bas pour le lien du formulaire de soumission en ligne.
2019 OCASI Professional Development Conference
Toronto, Ontario
October 17 & 18, 2019
Deadline for submissions: Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Click here for call for proposals in French
Scroll down for the link to the online submission form.
This has been an interesting past few weeks with various polls being released gauging Canadians including immigrants (including refugees) beliefs, feelings and understanding of (im)migration, immigrants as people, ethno-racial make-up of immigration and the changing face of Canada`s ethno-cultural/racial make-up.
I sit down to write this blog (or as my colleagues call it- rant-) with a mixed sense of anticipation and trepidation. An emotional potpourri – in the hodgepodge/ragbag meaning, not deodorizer or freshener sense.
Spring seems hesitant to come into its own this year. Or maybe it’s winter holding on stubbornly refusing to recognize that its time has passed - at least for now - but will always come around again. A promise. Similar to the promise that day will always follow night. Why am I waxing poetic? I am searching for hope, digging deep to find my optimism, to remind myself and you (I guess) that the gathering clouds, the political miasma that seems to be settling in will only be for a moment in time.
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