Category Archives: ECS 110

Growing up, my life seemed perfect. I had a dog and a cat whom were best friends that lived outside on my huge acreage, I could sit for hours watching Blue’s Clues, could not be more excited to spend one week with mom and the other with dad, and play with my Barbies every single day. As the clock moved forward and the years began to roll by, I became more aware of how the world worked, and how maybe everything was not as perfect as it seemed. The kingdom that I created in my head as a child may have partially came crumbling down a year and a half ago, but as the days go by I strive to rebuild the broken pieces, adding more rooms on in the future. Growing up, I felt as thought I had everything I needed. I had clothes that I loved dearly, food on the table always, wagon wheels in the pantry, and my dad would always take me to the closest movie theater that was an hour away from home. When I went to school however, I noticed the difference between myself and other kids in my grade. Growing up made me understand that life is what you make of it and not what you own.

Christmas has always been my absolute favorite time of the year. The smell of peppermint and cinnamon pine cones, family travelling to Grandmas for the Holidays, the red and green decorations filling the streets, and presents snugged underneath the Christmas tree. Christmas break was the longest break of the school season, meaning that we did not get to see or talk to our friends for two and a half weeks. As Christmas break came to a halt after New Years, everyone wanted to sport their new clothing pieces and bring some of their best gifts to show each other on our first day back. This Christmas however, I noticed the difference between my gifts and my best friends presents. I have and always will be grateful for the gifts I receive, the family that gathers in the warmth of a home, and the festivities we take part in. The way I was raised and the path of I have been given made me who I am today, and I am forever grateful. As we arrived back at school in January, the show and tell of the Holidays began. My best friend at the time was the first to go explaining how for Christmas her parents would be taking her to Disney World over February break. I sat in my seat imagining Disney World in my head, but hardly knew anything about the destination. I thought back to what I got for Christmas and how grateful I was for what my family could afford for me. Next, went a girl who’s parents always strive to give their children the best, and are still like that to this day. As she walked up to the front of the class she pulled out a device that I had never seen before, an IPod nano. At first I had never seen or heard of this device, but I knew that I wanted one too. It was hot pink in colour, and could play music and take both photographs and videos. I had never seen anything like it before. I put up my hand asking her and if she could show me the new gadget at recess, this was both out of jealousy and curiosity. As my turn rolled around, I pulled out a large box from my Curious George backpack that contained a deluxe airbrush tattoo workshop. I had played with my gift the entire break, believing it was the best gift I had ever received to date.

As the day went on I wondered about the other children and the gifts they received. Keeping the thought with me as I went home and told my dad about the Disney World trip, he explained to me that there is a difference between our families, with both jobs and the number of parents living in the household. I was not upset about my gifts, in fact, every single gift that I have received has given me more childhood memories than I could never have experienced with an IPod Nano. I stuck to my Taylor Swift CD, and watched Disney movies on VHS as I gave my dad airbrush tattoos. Maybe my family is not like everyone else’s, I had thought, but mine was for sure the best.

Both structural and systematic racism is defined by being ‘a form of racism expressed in the practice of social and political instructions.’ This seems to mean that both groups and individuals are being supportive of racist thinking. People believe that most of these groups or individuals are white and show racism towards other cultures with active racism and being supportive towards racist thinking. White identity is combined with white privilege helping me to believe that those two topics being tied together is unprincipled. These topics are not the same, but some believe that it can be tied together throughout different topics. When we see someone on television commit a crime, we have a good image created of them in our minds, based solely on the crime that took place. Many people see white as ‘innocent’ and are surprised when they see a young white male has committed a crime, and often times are approached with a sentencing of much less than another culture. People do not seem so surprised when a person of another culture has committed a crime, but this is just an example of seeing whiteness as innocence.

I personally feel discomfort and attacked towards the thought that white privilege is everywhere, when in fact in some places there is no thought towards them and their needs. If a person of any skin colour applies for a job, they should choose the person who is most equipped. But, if you want to apply for a job in criminal justice today, you will see that both the advertisement and the application will state that they are only looking for metis, etc. If a white man or woman applies for the job and cannot prove that they are one of the three listed cultures, their application will be removed leaving them out of a job and a way to provide to their families based on his or her cultural background. The bad apple theory states that a few ‘bad apples’ can bring corruption. Which in fact that is not the truth. We are meant to harvest our own decisions and both these decisions and discussions should not be based on skin colour, but based on who is capable of which job, what crime, and what movements shall scattered across the world. A few bad apples can be removed and overseen, it depends on how we act on different topics as a nation that matters.

I am only four years old as my mother puts me into the vehicle, and we begin our half an our road trip into Nipawin, Saskatchewan. My pink fabric booster seats lifts me up so that I have a perfect view looking out the window. It is the end of August and the summer sun is beating down onto our car, and the black pavement moving quickly underneath. I did not have a clue where we were headed, or why, but I can tell you now that this day would change my life forever. As the road trip came to an end, and we parked in front of a small building that had many mothers and daughters walking in and out of the door,  I knew this was a place where I belonged. As I pulled open the heavy metal door, an open, wooden floor greeted me, along with many other girls my age and older. Classical music filled the air, mixing with the summer breeze, and two women sitting at a plastic table asked me a question that led me to believe I could achieve anything. “Which dance classes will you be joining this year?” As I looked around the dance hall I realized that these girls surrounding me were powerful, and had the same interests as me. I finally came to the conclusion that I was a young girl, and I was going to be a ballerina, just like Clara in Barbie and the Nutcracker.

I not only joined ballet, but I also found interest in jazz, lyrical, tap, modern, and of course, pointe. I danced for a total of twelve years, and over those years I learned so many important things about myself, but this dance hall not only made my dreams come true, but made me more aware of my body. Every dance class we were compared to one another, and dressed in skin tight, black leotards. This made it easy for our dance instructor to see our bodies always, and correct us so that we would not be able to hurt ourselves or damage growing muscle. As time passed and we grew older, some of us were asked to do a move or a combination like another. Others developed eating disorders since we were all expected to have a certain physic. Every single girl that walked into those large metal doors, continued to walk in and out three days, every week until graduation rolled around. Here we learned to be strong, powerful, motivated, encouraging, thriving, balanced young women. We were surrounded by mirrors, front, back, and side almost every day of our lives up until we turned eighteen. This made most us self aware of how we looked at every angle during every single movement we took. Making me realize that a happy women is a strong one, and accepting yourself is the only way to create self love.

To say it is easy to be a women,  is wrong. I scroll through the internet every single day and I will not lie, I have compared myself or wished that I had someone else’s body. Over the years I have learned to grow and understand that my body shape is not the same as theirs, and neither are my genetics. Realizing you are a women with a beautiful body and self worth is so important. Dance helped me realize who I was, how powerful my body really is, and how empowering other women is very important always.

I went to school in the small town of Choiceland, Saskatchewan where there were only five others students in my grade, making the school only reach a high of about one hundred and twenty students at the best of times. Every student was Caucasian, and even when we went to the big city, we never questioned why our skin colour was different from others. I believe this is because we never judged, and children see everyone as equals (unless they are raised otherwise). My earliest memory of noticing that others have different skin colour than me, was at a family event.

My moms sister, Auntie Jamie, had a relationship with an African-American man and had five children in the process. We had never met him, but her and my cousins were always together with us on those special holidays. Her oldest son is nineteen years of age now, meaning he is only a year older than me, so naturally we were always seen together at family functions. I never saw their skin colour as something that stood out to me, or wrong in any way, if anything I am proud to say that my family has diversity and is beautiful in different ways. My grandma finds it especially pleasant since my mother has two Caucasian children, and her other daughter has African-American children, making us her ‘salt and pepper babies’. To all of us that is adorable, so take it with a grain of salt.

It is fascinating to see just how different one family can be throughout the tree. Personally, I have pale skin, blue eyes, red hair, and stand at five foot five. On the other hand, my oldest cousin has dark skin, brown eyes, curly brown hair, and stands at six foot three. Having different skin colour does not make you worth any less or anymore than everyone else, it simply makes us beautiful in such complex ways. So often in a day we see another person and admire their beauty, and we never once think that they are worthless based on the way they look. That is the beauty of diversity, skin colour, beliefs, and creativity.

Home for me is not the place where I sleep, nor is it the place I visit once every few months where I grew up. Home is a place I have learned to find love for myself, and warmth in the air. A place where memories last a life time, and is a whole plane ride away. This place is only home with the right people at the right times, allowing thoughts from others into my life only when needed, and a place to guide me back to other memories and childhood. What makes it home is the light that goes into my eyes, the magical words it makes spill from my lips, the drops, lifts, and sharp turns it allows me to make, and the new memories it allows me to create, but I will not share this place. Home for me is where I am happiest, where I can be myself, where no judgement is released, and where smiles are widened.

Life brings us to unexpected places, love brings us home. – Unknown