The Weight of Telling My Story

Telling my story of racism is difficult. The anxiety comes from feeling that I must prove my experience, as we live in a society that often dismisses such claims without evidence. The five years I spent enduring racism were some of the hardest of my life, compounded by the responsibilities of caregiving for my parents. The whole experience made me physically ill and left me uncertain about decisions in other areas of my life. Sharing my story is both a way to help others facing similar challenges and a step toward my own healing.

Naming Racism: My First Encounter

My first encounter with racism, where I could name it, was with a principal years ago. Oddly, this experience was easier to handle because her bias was overt and evident to everyone. Early in my career, she praised my writing, but after overhearing me speak Bangla with my father, she began criticizing my English, claiming I had a language deficiency. Despite following her suggested language for report cards, she continued to mark up my work with the dreaded red pen. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the depth of her bias, but it planted a seed of awareness.

A More Insidious Experience

Years later, I encountered another principal who presented a greater challenge. At first, I was excited about her arrival, having heard positive things about her leadership. However, from the very beginning, I sensed unease. Over three long years, her systemic racism became evident.

Racial Disparities in Student Discipline

I noticed her bias first in her treatment of racialized students. One student was repeatedly suspended for minor infractions like making noises or a perceived swear word—something he would never do out of fear of punishment by God. Meanwhile, white students exhibiting violent or defiant behaviour faced no real consequences but were provided additional support to keep them in school.

Another incident involved a white student who threw an ice chunk, injuring another student. Witnesses confirmed a Black student was not at fault, yet he was punished while the white student was allowed to play. In another case, a Black student who was repeatedly called a derogatory slur by classmates ended up in a physical altercation. The teacher, blamed by the students for a lack of consequences, was unable to act beyond her authority. These incidents revealed that while students understood the gravity of racism, the principal did not demonstrate the same awareness.

Experiences of Workplace Racism

The racism I endured extended beyond the classroom and directly targeted me:

• Leadership Opportunities Denied: Despite expressing interest in a leadership role within the school, I was denied without explanation. Later, I learned the principal had no idea about my advanced qualifications, including my master’s degree and specialist certification.
• Inequity in Board Opportunities: When selected for a leadership opportunity by the board, I was granted only a fraction of the time allotted while a white colleague attended the full session. Only after union intervention was I allowed a small portion of the time.
• Communication Exclusions: I was often left out of key communications, such as new student arrivals or schedule changes, which I would discover accidentally from colleagues.
• Denied Personal Days: Requests for time off for a religious holiday and moving into my first home were denied, while white colleagues with similar requests were granted permission.
• Disparities in Resources: Requests for classroom resources were repeatedly denied, while white colleagues were granted the same resources. Eventually, I began asking them to make requests for our classes.
• Unequal Recognition: Racialized educators were consistently overlooked for recognition, such as farewell gifts, which were regularly given to white counterparts.

Grieving While Advocating

The hardest time came during my final year at this school, as my father, Baba, became gravely ill. I spent countless hours in the emergency room making critical decisions for his care. Despite the strain, the principal insisted I could not take time off without her approval, even though our collective agreement allowed it. After Baba passed, I returned to work to find solace in my students, but the principal attempted to exert control over my professional judgment and personal well-being, disregarding the recommendations of my medical team.

A Reflection on Resilience

Looking back, I realize I returned to work not only for my own healing but to protect my students from the harm caused by this principal’s behaviour. Despite the grief and physical toll it took on me, I wanted to ensure they had a safe and supportive environment.

The Drive for Advocacy

These detailed experiences fuel my passion for representation, equity, and advocacy for marginalized students and educators. While systemic supports were present, they were often insufficient in addressing the root issues. My story underscores the importance of creating spaces where all educators and students feel valued and supported.

This post is part of my advocacy journey. Don’t miss ‘In the Classroom of Life: My Road to Advocacy Part 3,’ where I reflect on finding my voice through advocacy, building resilience, and pushing for systemic change.