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Illustration by Alex Siklos
Last fall, I experienced one of the worst racist incidents I’ve had in a long time.
I’d purchased new knapsacks for my children, and within a few weeks, a handle on one of the bags had torn. I brought it back to the store and asked for a refund or an exchange. Things went downhill from there.
The salesperson I met with was dismissive and rude. I was calm and repeated my request for a refund or an exchange. Although I lacked the receipt, I presented my bank statement, which showed the purchase date, store and items bought. Incidentally, this was the same clerk who had sold me the two bags. I remembered her and I was sure she remembered me, as we were both people of colour.
She said she needed to call her manager and stepped away for a few minutes. But, instead of calling her manager, she called mall security. Then she made racial comments about me and “my people” doing “this type of thing all the time.”
I was stunned! Two security guards appeared at the store entrance to escort me out. I told them that I’d been waiting to speak with the manager and was simply advocating for myself, trying to resolve this matter as I was trained to do as a lawyer. The salesperson smacked her lips and sarcastically remarked “You’re not a lawyer. How can you be a lawyer – you are Black!”
When I got into my car, I called my husband and started sobbing as I recalled the incident to him. After being in Canada for almost 50 years, I was still the immigrant, I was still the Black person looking to scam the salesperson and I definitely could not be a legal professional, because I was Black.
I’ve only just come to realize the level of trauma and humiliation this incident has caused me over the past few months. I am so glad that I did not bring my children with me that day to the mall.
Every time I think about what happened that day, I get teary. Racism and discrimination occurs everywhere and every day in Canada, and I’ve certainly experienced my share of it. But this felt so much worse somehow because it was directed at me by another person of colour and someone who I believe was a newer immigrant to Canada. As it happens, I’m an immigration lawyer who works daily to help newcomers navigate complex immigration rules and barriers.
Looking at the bigger picture, Canadians think we are so much better than other countries, notably the United States, where Black people are shot and killed by the police. But since this ugly incident, and now that my teenagers are old enough to go to the mall on their own, I’ve had to prepare them to understand that they will likely be profiled, followed and questioned by sales clerks, simply because they are shopping while Black. I’ve told them to keep their hands visible and not in their pockets, and to avoid wearing hoodies over their heads at all times. This is what a Black parent must teach their children so we can ensure they come home safely.
Months later, I’m still trying to process this verbal assault and the public humiliation of being walked out of a store, but it’s taking time to work through my emotions. It’s also more complex than the “regular” racism I have experienced before from Caucasians. This was cross-cultural racism – a person of colour being racist to another person of colour.
How do I deal with this when, apparently, the hierarchy of power had placed the sales clerk above me, simply because her skin was lighter than mine? How could she hold such racist beliefs about Black people when certainly she had also experienced racism in Canada?
Despite my being a citizen for almost five decades, despite that I spoke perfect, clear English with no accent at all and despite my many years in university and 25 years practising law and running a successful business, I was still at the bottom of the racial rung. I was the “other” that was feared.
The sales clerk took something from me that day that I may never get back: she took away my confidence that I truly belonged in Canada – that Black people could claim this country as ours too, and expect to be treated fairly.
I was raised to always work twice as hard in order to achieve my goals. I have degrees, a respected profession, a business, I contribute to my community, my city and my country, but perhaps I had forgotten that for racists, absolutely nothing matters but the colour of my skin.
I hope to find a way to move forward and let this go.
Evelyn Ackah lives in Calgary.
