Microagressions 2.0

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Uy skweyul, everyone🧡

I'm Rebecca Harris and I am stepping in again for Kim today.

A while back, George wrote about the microaggressions he carries and what it's like to move through the world as himself, every day. I remember what it took for him share that. It's one thing to carry something quietly. Its another thing entirely to put it into words and hand it to hundreds of people you may never meet. That's not a small thing to do, and I don't think it gets said enough. That piece stayed with a lot of you. It stayed with me too. 

This week George shares more experiences that he has had recently. I want to allow him to share his own story so all I will say is this: watching these things happen is still hard, and I'm still learning what it asks of me.

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Uy skweyul Siiye'yu (Good day friends),

A while back I wrote about the microaggressions I have experienced. That writing did something I didn't fully expect. For me, it felt healing to share pain I had been carrying quietly. For many of you reading it, it opened your eyes to harms that happen to me and my people on a daily basis. And for others, it became a mirror, a chance to look inward at the prejudice we all carry, sometimes without even realizing it.

Today I want to share two more stories from the last little while. I call this Microaggressions 2.0, not because the first conversation is finished, but because these things keep happening, and I believe the more we talk about them, the harder they become to ignore.

Grouse Mountain

Recently I had the opportunity to do some work with my dear friend Kim. We were up at Grouse Mountain and everything went smoothly. We got to enjoy a gondola ride up on a beautiful sunny day, arriving early enough to relax and settle in before our work began.

After we finished, we got back in line for the gondola ride down. Ahead of us was a family of White people, five of them, who walked through the line without showing their tickets. Kim was walking just in front of me and she was not asked to show her ticket either. Then I stepped up, the only First Nations person in that line, and I was stopped. I was asked to show my ticket.

I called Kim back and told her we needed to show our tickets together. I did this so the attendant would see we were traveling together. We both showed our tickets and she scanned them.

In that moment I felt a lot of things at once. Shock, because five people had just walked through without a single ticket being checked, and suddenly, when the one Indigenous person appeared, it became a priority. Hurt, because I was being racially profiled right there in a line, in broad daylight, on what had been a beautiful day. I don't know what was going on in the heart or mind of the person checking tickets. I only know her actions stayed with me long after the gondola ride was over.

Duncan

The following day, my wife and I went down to Duncan for an appointment. The building was in the old downtown district. As we approached the crosswalk, I noticed two White By-Law Officers standing at the corner.

When the crosswalk signal started beeping, telling us it was safe to cross, I hesitated for a split second. That particular crosswalk is unique, it allows people to cross diagonally, with painted lines guiding you in a big X pattern. As we neared the other side, I heard the female By-Law Officer call out "excuse me." My stomach and my heart dropped in that instant.

She called out again. This time I turned to see who she was speaking to. It wasn't me. It was a young First Nations man. I watched him dismount his bike and walk over to speak with the officers. My wife noticed I had stopped moving. I stood still and watched, and I told her, "let's just wait a minute, I want to make sure everything's okay." She nodded, understanding exactly what I meant without needing more words.

What upset me most was what I saw around us while this was unfolding. Other people were riding their bikes across that same crosswalk, no helmets, same as him. Nobody stopped them. But when a First Nations person does the exact same thing, it becomes a problem worth calling out.

Why I Keep Sharing These Stories

Racism and discrimination toward First Nations people is on the rise. It shows up in so many different forms, many of which go unseen by people who have never had to live it. But I can tell you, it happens every single day.

I don't share these stories so you'll feel sorry for me. I share them so you'll see. I want my story told so that together we can chip away at Indigenous specific racism and discrimination, one honest conversation at a time.

So here is what I'm asking of you. If you're out in the world and you see an Indigenous person, take a moment to notice what's happening around them. How are they being treated? Train your eyes and your ears to pick up on the things that happen in plain sight but often go unquestioned.

My wife has been walking beside me for over a decade now. Her eyes and ears are still learning, still developing, but she has trained herself to watch for these moments alongside me, to notice what I notice. That kind of witnessing matters.

And if you see these things happening, if it unsettles something in you, and you have it in you to stand beside us, please do. Because it is a very lonely world when people around you carry dislike for you simply because of who you are and where you come from.

Huy ch q'u | Thank you

Wholwolet'za | George Harris Jr

Huy ch q'u, George.

Thank you for trusting us with these stories again, even when it would be easier to stay quiet. What you're asking of us is simple, to notice, to watch, to stand beside. That's work we can all do, starting today.

Huy ch q'u. 🧡Rebecca + the CC Team