Introduction: The Power of Words
Equity, social justice, and diversity—these words spark a range of emotions, especially in the classroom. Before diving into these complex topics, I want to share the story behind my connection to these words and how they led me to advocacy. This is the first part of a three-part series exploring why I am the advocate I am today.
A Privileged Beginning
I was born and raised in Canada, surrounded by privilege. My immigrant family valued education and cherished our Bengali culture, which was central to our lives. Growing up in the GTA during the early 90s, I attended an ethnically diverse school where 85 languages were spoken. Diversity was my norm, and it never occurred to me that racism could be an issue in Canada.
Signs of Division in High School
Looking back, I now see my naivete. In high school, a teacher was reassigned after being associated with a white supremacist group, but at the time, I believed his views hadn’t influenced his teaching. Another memory involved a fight between white and South Asian students—a stark division I didn’t question deeply.
Years later, reading Beverly Daniel Tatum’s Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? provided clarity. The book explained self-segregation among students, something I had observed but never understood. In high school, I could map out where each racial group sat in the cafeteria. Now, I realize these divisions were systemic. The education system didn’t address race relations, leaving students to find safe spaces where they didn’t have to explain their cultural realities.
Naivete in a Mosaic
Growing up, I embraced the idea of Canada as a mosaic of cultures, unlike the melting pot of the U.S. I saw Canadians as kind, polite, and inclusive. I didn’t notice the flaws in the system or its colonial structures, nor did I fully understand my parents’ advocacy efforts.
Cultural Advocacy at Home
My father, Baba, fiercely preserved our Bengali culture through Auhwan, a Bengali radio program our family produced in Toronto. It’s why I named my yoga business Auhwan, meaning “welcome”—a word that intertwines joy and advocacy for me. Baba also volunteered extensively, reinforcing my cultural identity.
My mother, Ma, made her own bold statements by wearing saris everywhere, even during Toronto summers. This act of self-expression in the 70s, 80s, and 90s resisted the pressures of assimilation. Today, I draw strength from her example, wearing Indian-style clothing at work when I need to feel empowered.
Balancing Two Worlds
Though they maintained deep cultural pride, my parents also embraced Canada. Baba proudly displayed the Canadian flag and supported local businesses, while Ma held onto her traditions. Their duality—preserving Bengali culture while living Canadian lives—has left a lasting impression on me. However, it also led to my habit of code-switching: being one person at work and another at home.
The Educator’s Lens
As an educator, I’ve seen how the system uplifts some students while failing others. Certain truths only revealed themselves through lived experiences, including my encounter with workplace racism. That moment was pivotal, opening my eyes to systemic injustice and igniting my advocacy for students and colleagues. I never wanted anyone to feel the way I was made to feel.
A Journey of Growth
This experience shaped who I am today, giving me the courage to share my stories and reflect critically on the world. By listening to all sides and challenging my biases, I continue to grow as an advocate and individual.
This post is part of my advocacy journey. Don’t miss “In the Classroom of Life: My Road to Advocacy Part 2”, where I share more about identifying and confronting systemic racism in the workplace and education system.
