Some weeks ago, I spoke with Kelly, my friend and fellow theology student, over the phone. Our conversation was about living in Canada as a Black Christian. It happened rather spontaneously, and it required a lot of vulnerability (on Kelly’s part) and humility (on my part).
Stories like Kelly’s are intensely personal, and yet, they are often overlooked or undervalued. But I can safely say that for many of us, our response to this is: No longer. In this blog post, Kelly shares life-altering accounts of racial discrimination; how she processes the anger and hurt experienced by the Black community with God; what the lack of diversity in theological schools signals to her; and what she thinks the church and the world can do in encouraging diversity and inclusivity.
I pray that you receive Kelly’s story with open eyes and soft hearts. To be truly with Kelly demands courage and compassion on our parts. May this be what we offer as we read Kelly’s story, and as we also examine the ways in which we have, unconsciously or otherwise, marginalized or neglected to pay attention to the stories of others who are not like us, and whom we call our brothers and sisters in Christ.
xx,
iz
Thank you for agreeing to share your story, Kelly. You were telling me that although you live in Canada, it feels like you don’t belong here. Could you share more about why you feel this way?
“I was born in Montreal, Quebec. In the first 10 years of my life, I didn’t question my identity and belonging as a Quebecoise that much. But everything changed after 1995, the year that the Referendum in Quebec for separation from Canada lost.
The “No” campaign received 51% of the votes, and the “Yes” campaign had 49%. It was very close. The comment made by the Prime Minister, Jacques Parizeau, at the time was that they had lost because of the ethnic vote. From then on, I felt like I was in a place that I didn’t belong to. That was the first time I recognized that I was not a Quebecoise. I was something else, but not sure exactly what.
Even though my parents were born in Haiti, most of their lives were spent here. So for me the connection with Haiti was remote. I had never been there, did not even speak the language—Creole—and could barely understand it. So even if I wanted to claim that I am Haitian, I really couldn’t. But at the same time, in Quebec I was labelled as “this ethnic group”. So it felt like being Quebecois was essentially being White. And you had to have been there for a few generations.”
Kelly (second row, first from right) in kindergarten
And this sense that you didn’t belong persisted throughout your school years, while you were growing up?
“That’s right. It actually got worse through the school system. When I graduated from elementary school and went to secondary school, it was predominantly White. I could count with my two hands how many Black people there were in my year. It was a big contrast from my elementary school’s demographics; I really felt like I did not belong.
The school I attended was different on so many levels. I was from a middle-class family; many of the White students were from the upper-class with parents in prominent positions in society. And on top of it, I faced discrimination from some teachers in that school.”
Kelly (first row, third from left) in secondary school
What incidents do you remember facing discrimination in?
“One incident is the one that changed me forever. I was in secondary three (the equivalent of grade nine). I was in a class where there were only a few Black people and a person of mixed ethnic background. It was a private school and one of the top schools in Quebec, so you naturally want to perform and get your chance to answer questions. Each time the teacher asked a question, and us students of colour raised our hands, she would never pick us. Our suspicions were confirmed when one day only Black students were raising their hands to answer the question, and she decided to pick a Caucasian student who had not raised her hand. This happened so often.
One day, we had an oral test on a book we had to read. And the way it was set up is that this teacher would call five people to the front and ask five different questions. Of the five people sitting at the front, whoever knew the answer could raise their hands.
I had read the book, but I was not feeling well that morning. Despite that, I went to school to do the exam. While I was sitting at the front of the class, I raised my hand for the first three questions she asked—and she picked the other people. I was the only one consistently raising her hand and she would not pick me. When she asked the fourth question, I raised my hand. There were only two of us left, and I was the only one raising my hand. She asked the other student and said, “Come on, I know you know the answer”. She even provided hints to that student so she could get the answer to that question.
When she asked me the fifth question, which she ensured would be hard for me to answer, I was so angry at the injustice. But because I was a very shy person, I didn’t say anything and accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to get a good mark for that oral test.
As I settled back in my seat and put my head on my desk because I was feeling unwell, a friend of mine seated in front of me turned and asked if I was ok. As I was about to reply, the teacher yelled at us saying, “If you girls keep on talking again, you’ll both get a zero for your test”.
I told the teacher that my friend was just checking on me because I was not feeling well. I don’t remember exactly what the teacher replied, but she said something along the lines of: “Then you shouldn’t have come”. And I said, “But I had a test”. And she responded, “Well, you should have planned accordingly”. And at that point I lost it. I yelled at her and said something along the lines of: “Are you dumb? How can I prepare for a sickness?” In front of the whole class, I went off for a couple of minutes on that teacher, telling her exactly how we felt about her and how I would never tolerate her discriminatory behaviour again. And the girls (it was an all-girls school) started to applaud and support me.
Because of my outburst, I created an uprising and ended up being called to the principal’s office. I got a detention and was asked to apologize to the teacher in front of the class and to write a letter of apology. After calling my mom and explaining to her what had happened, she went to the school and stated her opinion. And when we left the office, my mom said, “If you ever apologize in front of the class or write that letter, you’re going to get in trouble with me.” Although the teacher constantly asked me to apologize, I found a way to avoid it. Also, I never wrote the letter of apology.
From that moment on, I was changed. I started to notice more injustices in the school context. And from that day on, I was not afraid to speak up for myself and people close to me.”
Kelly at work in a Cellular Biology lab in Sherbrooke, Quebec
What about work or society in general? Did you face any discrimination there?
“Work has been fairly good for me. I rarely encountered discrimination as much as I did in school. I was blessed, I guess, because I know it’s not everyone’s reality. I have to admit that the work that I was doing didn’t entail me trying to climb up the ladder. Most of my friends faced discrimination when they took on management positions.
In society, it’s displayed through little comments that people don’t intend to be mean, but still make you feel like you don’t belong here. For example, when winter comes and someone says to me, “You must not be used to it, eh?” For them, there is no way I was born here. I must have come from a warmer country. This happened mostly in Vancouver and Calgary. And whenever I receive comments like these, I tell them that I’ve actually experienced harsher winters. They’re shocked when they find out that I was born in Quebec.
Their assumptions make me feel like I don’t belong here. I know they don’t mean it in a hurtful way, but that’s why most people of non-White heritage can never feel at home here.
What I’ve also experienced a lot is the infamous question: “Where are you from?”. I would say, “Montreal.” And they would reply, “Oh, how about your parents?” And I would say, “Well, they were born in Haiti but came here at an early age”. And they would answer back “Oh, you’re Haitian!” Somehow, I am just not allowed to be Canadian.”
Why do you think this happens so often? Do you think “Canadian” equals “White/Caucasian”?
“Totally. Canadian means being White. I do understand that we’re shaped by our ethnic heritage. The problem I have is the assumption that because we are of that particular ethnic heritage, we have nothing Canadian in us. But that is false because we’ve been shaped by both cultures.
The first time I went to Haiti was in 2012 for humanitarian work. And it wasn’t even in the area where my grand-parents and parents were from. That’s where I have issues with these assumptions—as much as they’re partly right, they’re partly wrong as well. We’ve adopted many of the Canadian mentalities and ways of living.”
At the ruins of a palace called Chateau Sans-Souci in northern Haiti in 2012
At an Infant Rehabilitation Centre in northern Haiti in 2012
“While I am from Canada, my Christian journey is so different from that of a White person. Many of the issues they experience are totally different from the ones I face as a Black Christian.”
You were going to share some thoughts about the church as well.
“Yes. For me, I have a unique experience in the sense that I grew up in Haitian churches in Quebec. Most White Quebecois weren’t very religious. At best, they identified themselves as non-practicing Catholics. So, for many years I thought Christianity was mainly a Black religion. It was only after moving outside of Quebec and going to school in Alberta for my undergrad that I was pleasantly shocked to see that there were many White Christians, and that Christianity was practiced by people from different ethnic groups. After that, I developed an interest in discovering how Christianity was expressed in different ethnic groups.
Sadly, many ethnic churches tended to Westernize the way they did church. I did not understand why until my time at the University of Sherbrooke. I was part of a Christian student body where many of the students were White, and they once stated that it was the White leaders of that group that taught me and another Black friend of mine all we knew about the Christian faith. Before my friend could reply to their comment, one of the leaders corrected them and said that we had already come with that knowledge. When I moved to Vancouver, I noticed similar assumptions. When I responded to questions people have about the Christian faith, it was disregarded. But when a White person said something similar, it was celebrated as an ingenious answer. The assumptions in both cases were that Christianity is a White Man’s religion and that only the White voice matters.”
Kelly with some of her first non-Black Christian friends during her undergraduate studies in Alberta
What is it like, then, to be a Black Christian at a graduate school of theology?
“Though I really appreciate the rigorous education I am receiving, there is one area in which I hope to see some changes in all Western theological schools. There is a deplorable lack of diversity in terms of our theological readings. We have a department of World Christianity where you get to read non-European writings, but those courses aren’t mandatory for everybody. It feels like you’re always learning about a European view of Christianity. But Christianity is much more than European Christianity, especially now that the latter is a minority.
The reason why I’m being so critical about it is that while I am from Canada, my Christian journey is so different from that of a White person. Many of the issues they experience are totally different from the ones I face as a Black Christian. A little example: Too often, I have heard stories of White people losing their faith when tragedy or evil hits them. Consequently, books are written and sermons preached to make sense of evil so as to help people not lose their faith. Such an approach would be irrelevant for many Black people. Though we may question God about tragedies that happen, our faith does not depend on whether evil happens to us or not. Because we expect evil and injustice to occur, what many of us want is to hear stories and biblical passages on how God will get us through hardships and give us victory. This is one reason why, as a Black person in theological studies, I struggle sometimes to understand why I’m paying money to study things that are often irrelevant to my context. There needs to be more diversity.”
Kelly performing at a church in Calgary with her family
How has your identity as a Black Christian who’s grown up in the Haitian community shaped or helped you in your faith journey?
“Thank you for that question, because that’s not a question that I’m being asked. First of all, it’s helped me navigate through life. I was encouraged to embody what we were taught in the pastor’s weekly sermons and in our family devotionals. To borrow from the words of theologian Willie Jennings, our faith is “woven into the fabric of our lives”. Jesus is real to us. His power is real in our lives. We do not understand life without Christ.
Secondly, in the Haitian churches I grew up in, another thing that was emphasized was Sunday school. That was literally like school. Based on your age, you went from one grade to another, and after a certain age, to get to the next class you had to pass an exam. I was familiar with terms like eschatology, exegesis, and ecclesiology from a young age, so that when the pastor preaches and refers to those terms, we would understand. It helps the pastor focus on preaching the practical part of theology without spending his time defining terms.”
That’s amazing. A lot of us tend to “dumb down” Scripture and make it fun and cute and accessible for kids.
“It was fun, but it was the real deal. As kids, they trained us really well. They taught us how to integrate Jesus in our lives in a real way. So that’s why you’ll see many Black Christians praying about everything and anything. At an early age, Jesus is part of our lives in concrete ways. So I think that’s why we rarely lose people to faith when they grow up.”
Kelly with her closest friends Beatrice and Vicky
We talked a bit about justice just now. With the injustice surrounding the deaths of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and many others in the United States and elsewhere, there must be so much pain and anger in the Black community. How do you process everything you feel toward the injustice committed against you and your community? How do you talk to God about it?
“Dealing with these situations is an ongoing process. Racism is not something that’s happened in the past; it’s still happening. Therefore it is very difficult to deal with, but God is definitely working. I know it’s our faith, family, friends and community that keep us sane. My dad, my late mother and my siblings have been an amazing source of support during times of great injustice. I have two of my Christian friends, Beatrice and Vicky, with whom I regularly talk to about injustices, so that helps. We pray together and for one another and we try to stay accountable to one another on how things affect us and how we can improve our reactions. I am blessed to have other amazing friends who also have and are still accompanying me in this life journey.
A wonderful thing about Christ is that He reveals to you where you need healing and provides the help for it. Two and a half years ago, I went to New York and my friend asked me one question that destabilized me: “Kelly, you used to be really, really sweet. What happened?” That question really hurt me. As she pushed to understand, I realized that the prejudices and discrimination that I had faced had made me grow cold.
The following day was a Sunday, and we went to Brooklyn Tabernacle church. Before our vacation started, I had prayed that the pastor would preach a message that would speak to us—and he preached on bitterness. That’s when I was able to put a word to what I was feeling when my friend asked the question. That’s the amazing thing, walking with God—when you don’t know you’re sick, He will reveal it to you.
I experienced the beginning of a “cleaning” of my heart that day, but it’s going to take a while to heal because of the constant discrimination and injustice that I face. But I believe and trust in the God of miracles. I believe He can make me the sweet person I used to be again.”
You shared with me previously that you’ve grown numb to racist remarks and experiences. Do you think feeling numb is the same as feeling hopeless? Or do you still have hope that things will change?
“I was pondering that question, and I realize that this numbness arises because of hopelessness. I’ve given up on seeing changes in society, and in the educational system in particular. For me, the educational system is where it starts. In Canada, that is where you spend most of the days of your lives after the workplace. It’s a place that shapes you as an individual, and shapes how you should think and live.
Since the discrimination that I experienced was worst in the educational system, until I see concrete changes in that area, I think that whatever we’re talking about right now—even if the Prime Minister recognizes that there is systemic racism in Canada—it’s not enough. It’s not enough to say it. I did not hear any concrete changes that he will make to address systemic racism. Also, they’re not talking about the source of the issue; they only address the symptoms. So I am pessimistic about changes at a societal level. On a personal level, though, I will still keep fighting my own battles and that of people close to me.”
Kelly (second from left) with her parents, sisters and niece
Kelly’s dad, nephew and brothers
What, for you, would constitute real change in the church, or society, and even in educational institutions, in terms of being more inclusive and open to celebrating diversity?
“In terms of what can be done in society, I could suggest many things. But I’ve got to be honest with you: They need Jesus. What I’m about to share with you is only possible in Christ. Because it requires putting your pride aside, and that pride is not going to go down easily unless God intervenes.
For me, society needs to first recognize that they have prejudices against non-Whites. A lot of people say, “I’m not racist”. But, yes, you can be. Racism starts with those prejudices. White people also need to recognize that they have a “God-complex” attitude. They often think they are superior. This sense of superiority can be in little things, like food. I’ve seen how some White people react disgustingly to food that other people bring from their own culture and say, “Oh my gosh, what is that?” Already, that attitude signals that they believe that this food is inferior to theirs. Then there are some White people who think they know best about what another ethnic group needs for their education, without ever consulting that group. That’s a “God-complex” attitude. Even if they’re doing it with a good heart, it still shows that they think they know better, and therefore that they are superior.
I’m not saying that White people have nothing to offer. Quite the opposite: I believe that every ethnic group on this planet has something to offer. What I’m arguing against is the (implicit) belief that they are the only ones that have something to offer. That’s why I say that they need Jesus. Even those who do things in good faith—such perceptions are a part of how they grew up.
Again, I go back to the education system. A sense of superiority is installed at a really young age. Quick example: I know people who have their kids in preschool, and they hear from their White peers comments like “Ew, your skin looks like poop”. You’re no more than five and you already say something like this. And their parents minimize that by saying things like, “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know what he’s saying”. Oh, really now? Saying he’s just a kid and doesn’t know better just perpetuates that mentality and makes them think it’s acceptable. If the parents do not make it clear that they are really displeased with such comments, the child will remain racist.”
What about the Church?
“Some ‘White’ churches need to encounter Jesus again. I am talking about those who preach a Westernized Christianity instead of a Christianized Western mentality. For example, some have argued that Christian thought is one of the factors (if not the main one) that has made it possible for the West to have a Scientific Revolution. This association of Christianity with the progress of science and technology has led some Christians to claim that this is proof of the truth of Christianity. My academic and professional backgrounds are in science, and yet I would not dare think that Christianity is validated by science. That is putting science on a higher pedestal, just like secularists. This leads to an arrogant attitude, in that countries that are not as advanced in science and technology are viewed as being “behind” and incapable of contributing to human flourishing.
The Church needs to understand that the value of Christianity cannot depend on progress in science and technology. That’s not what God will look at. Some people in other countries couldn’t care less about technology. Some don’t even need it. So does that mean they’re less of a Christian because of that?
The focus should not be on possessions or on scientific or technological progress, but on the fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control). By putting the emphasis on that, it makes everyone equal as Christians no matter their social status, ethnic background, or even scientific knowledge—if you’re embodying the fruit of the Spirit, it means you are walking with the Spirit of God. That’s what God is looking at. The Church should focus on those kinds of values. If they do, it will help remove the “God-complex” attitude present within the Western church. It will humble them and make them see that they can learn from people of differing social statuses and ethnic backgrounds.”
Kelly in secondary school
What, for you, are some good resources or books you would recommend to help other Christians understand more about race and faith, inclusivity, and more?
“I personally don’t even read about these issues, because I don’t really need to. I live it. To be honest with you, I don’t want White people to be reading about it either. I want them to talk to other people of colour about it. What is important is to talk to people around you that are from different ethnic groups to understand their reality. I believe in this method 1000%.
You also need to be talking to people you have a certain trust in, because if you don’t like the person or have some prejudices against him or her, you’ll probably dismiss what he or she says. So you need to speak to somebody you already trust and who will not sugarcoat the truth, but will speak it in a more loving way to you.”
I absolutely agree with you on this. There should be more conversations taking place, so people are able to expand their worldviews and understand what another person’s worldviews and experiences are like.
“Exactly. One more thing: the reason why I don’t suggest reading is that people will tend to generalize and analyze issues like a mathematical problem. Reality is much more complex. And while my reality is not the same as, for example, someone who’s having a hard time finding a job, it doesn’t mean that I’m not struggling in other ways. When you talk to people around you, you get to understand their reality in your surroundings, and apply the right solutions for that person in your context. So, reading about the African-American experience will not help you understand the Black Canadian experience. Even within Canada, racism is not expressed the same way from one region to another. Therefore, talking to people of colour (Black, Asians, Arabs, Hispanics, Aboriginals, etc.) in your context is best because it will help you uncover the best solutions to address racism around you.”
That is so true, and it’s something I hope to put into action more. Thank you once again, Kelly, for sharing your story, and for trusting me to hold space for your experiences.
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