Kick Down the Door

“Kick down the door.”

That’s the advice my dad gave me as I was getting ready to move to a new city and start a new degree. I was excited to be following my dreams but I knew that Black people were underrepresented in the city I was moving to and the profession I was going into, and I was worried. I was worried that I would spend the next three years feeling like an outsider. I was worried that I would be treated differently because I was Black. I was worried that I would make it into the working world and get my dream job but still feel like I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Why “kick down the door”?

I’m walking into a house that was custom-made for someone else.
It’s hard to feel like the “odd one out.” Being the only Black person in the room carries with it a stress that’s hard to explain. It’s hard to go through the day feeling hyper-visible. But it’s not just numbers. It’s hard to feel like you belong when the house wasn’t designed for you. As a society, we built institutions and professions to meet the needs of those who we deemed worthy of higher education and high-paying jobs. For hundreds of years, that was almost exclusively white men. Activists and allies are working hard to make things better and more inclusive, but that takes time.

Feeling like an outsider is a natural response when buildings and scholarships are named after history’s most unashamed racists. It’s hard when the stories told and voices heard don’t belong to people who look like you. Racism exists on a person-to-person level, but it also exists on an institutional level. Institutions reflect the problematic views of their founders. As society changes, we need to make sure our institutions change too.

Yes, things are better than they were 100 years ago. Things are better than they were 50 years ago. But we’re not there yet. If we care about equality, if we really believe that success should be based on merit, we need to admit that we’re not actually a meritocracy. We need to realize that the systems we’ve put in place don’t treat everyone equally. And then we need to make changes.

It’s my house too.
I worked hard to get here. I was supported by an amazing family, great friends, and mentors who believed in me. I also know that I am here in part because of certain privileges and advantages that I did not earn. By no means am I saying that I made it here “on my own.” But I’m here. And I’m kicking down the door because I have a right to be here. I have a right to be here without people asking if “affirmative action” got me in.* I have a right to be here without being discriminated against or tokenized. I’m here, and it’s not my job to convince other people that I deserve to be here.

*I want to stress that there is nothing wrong with being given opportunities because of ameliorative programs. These programs are designed to counteract the bias that our society holds toward certain groups. Affirmative action isn’t an “unfair advantage,” it’s a response to the “unfair advantage” that members of certain groups already hold.

Some of the current tenants aren’t thrilled to see me.
The status quo is familiar, comfortable, and predictable. People like what they have, and want to keep what they have. It’s uncomfortable to realize that racism is still a problem in Canadian society. It’s hard to look at a place that you love and accept that it’s not a great place for everybody. Thinking about your own privilege isn’t fun. It’s possible to be a friendly person and still hold problematic views. We’re raised in a society that privileges certain groups at the expense of others. We grow up being taught a whole range of harmful stereotypes. This implicit racism is deeply established in us. As such, the default position isn’t neutral. If you don’t think about race, if you don’t see colour, you’re perpetuating a system that disadvantages people, whether you want to or not.

A friend from undergrad described it well. She said her presence in university was revolutionary. That just being there was bold in itself. Just being there was enough to unsettle some people and challenge the status quo. I think she’s right. My very being here (in this school, in this program, in this profession) is a direct challenge to the system. That means that the pushback I’m facing is to be expected. It’s the same pushback that all the people of colour before me have faced. It’s strange to think that my showing up to class right as it starts holding a coffee bigger than my face is an act of boldness, but it is. I’m here because Black people before me were brave enough to climb in through a window because the door was barred. They were brave enough to pry the door open with a crowbar. And now I’m here to push that door open a little more.

It’s hard work.
Kicking down the door takes effort. It’s an extra step on top of trying to get a degree and make friends and get a job and meet people and network and maintain a healthy work-life balance. It’s easy to become bitter when you feel like you’re fighting your way into a door that’s being held open for other people. It’s okay to feel like things aren’t fair, because they aren’t fair. I am tired and discouraged but I’m not going to let that stop me. I am not going to quit, even though I’m exhausted. I will work to make things better. I will complain and get angry but then push back twice as hard, because I know that when I make it, things will be twice as sweet.

Here I come.

-Leah