Translator: Mirjana Čutura Reviewer: Cristina Bufi-Pöcksteiner
I was 15 years old when Somalia was going through a civil war.
There was chaos and violence everywhere.
My parents and I decided that we had no choice but to flee.
We gathered a few belongings, got on the back of a big truck
with a few other families,
left Somalia never to return.
After a very long journey,
I landed in Canada at the age of 16 by myself as a refugee.
I found out way after
that I landed on the indigenous territory of the Mississaugas of New Credit.
I was going through conflicting emotions.
On one hand, I felt that I was worried.
Would I be accepted in this new country?
Would I succeed?
But on the other hand, I was excited about a chance to restart my life,
and the chance to make new friends -
I was 16 after all.
The very next day,
what I didn't get used to, and still can't get used to,
is that cold Canadian winter.
(Laughter)
At the time, Canadians were experiencing that year
the coldest Canadian winter in a very long time.
The very next day, I tried to mail a letter to my mother,
and someone told me to go to a mailbox.
I'd never seen a mailbox in my life,
and I was struggling to insert that letter in there
in the middle of this snowstorm.
A young Canadian woman left her baby in the stroller,
raced towards me, and helped me do that.
That was my first experience of true Canadian generosity.
A few days later, I went to the laundromat.
I had never seen a laundry machine before.
I asked people, "How do I operate this thing?"
And these guys told me, "You need a loonie."
I got worried, I thought,
"What is a loonie? Is it a crazy person? Do I need to bring a crazy person here?"
And after almost leaving the establishment,
another Canadian reached out and helped me do my wash cycle.
Unfortunately,
they didn't stay long enough to help me figure out the dryer,
so I ended up walking back to my apartment with a bunch of wet clothes.
But regardless, I was so happy
that someone reached out to me in my time of need.
I went to high school, joined the track and field team.
And myself, the teammates, and the coach banded together
and bought me a winter jacket.
And over the years, making my way through high school,
I relied to social assistance and social housing.
When I went to university, I commuted two hours each way to pump gas
at a minimum wage job for $ 6.85,
but I used social housing tools to get through university.
And through using the generosity and the supports of Canadians,
the community services, and working incredibly hard,
I'm now able to stand in front of you
as the member of Parliament for York South-Weston,
and even more incredibly,
as Canada's Minister of Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship.
(Applause)
Thank you.
(Applause)
The second part of my journey is one that may not be familiar to many of you.
It is the journey of a country that is incredibly generous,
and welcoming, and diverse,
but continues to have challenges
in addressing systemic racism and true inclusion.
And at the time I lived in Regent Park -
Canada's oldest and largest social housing neighborhood -
and on many days, on many evenings, I would go for walks.
And during the majority of those walks,
a police car would screech to a halt right in front of me,
and the police officer would swing his door
in a dramatic fashion,
come at me, running - same manner every single time -
and ask me,
"Where are you going? What are you doing?
What do you have in your pockets? Show me your ID."
And when I talked to a number of my friends,
the ones who had the same skin color as myself confirmed for me
that they did indeed go through racial profiling and carding regularly.
And every single time that happened to me,
it was more humiliating than the first time it happened
because your neighbors are looking at you, strangers are passing by with a car.
Through their car windows, they're wondering,
"What did this guy do to deserve being held on the side of the road?"
But I did nothing.
I was only stopped because of the color of my skin.
And a few years later, I worked hard
and was lucky enough to be hired as a political staffer.
And we were at a reception,
where the only political staffer in the room was me, who was black.
And a prominent Canadian came to me and asked me,
"Are you an entertainer?"
I found the question to be strange,
but I was polite enough to say, "No, I'm not."
I smiled and said, "I'm a political staffer."
He smirked and said, "How did you get that job?"
He couldn't believe it.
And I said, "Well, I worked hard, I went to university, and here I am."
He asked again with another smirk
and said, "No, really. How did you get that job?"
And I said, again with a very polite answer,
"I worked hard, went to school, and applied for this job."
He walked away shaking his head
and didn't ask that question of any other political staffer in the room.
A few years later, I became a lawyer,
and I was representing a client in Ontario Superior Court.
And I wrote the name of my client and my name
to be called at the right time by the clerk.
And after a few hours of not being called,
during the court recess, I asked the clerk,
"Why is my name not being called?"
She looked and the two names and said,
"Oh, sorry. We thought you were one of the accused,"
the accused being the only other black individuals in the courtroom,
who were like me.
When these incidents happen,
imagine walking on the street
and having a parent pull their child closer to themselves
because you're walking by,
being followed in a grocery store because of the color of your skin.
Imagine,
because of the color of your skin, being pulled over by police constantly.
These incidents are debilitating;
they wear you down,
and they make you feel like the other.
And even though I got used to a lot of that,
it wasn't right, and it isn't right.
And so, it's one thing to talk about identity;
it's one thing to talk about racism and privilege.
It's another to really live the black experience in Canada.
So, the experiences of people of color,
the struggles they face every day with microaggressions are real.
The despair they go through sometimes is real.
The feeling that you have
that some of the structures around you and the systems are working against you
is real.
So how do you reconcile this amazing, generous, welcoming, diverse country
with these realities faced by some of our citizens?
I can go to Parliament Hill today and hold my head high,
and work seamlessly among my colleagues,
shake hands with world leaders,
but to this day still worry about getting pulled over by police.
But I chose to reflect on what's best about Canada.
And I worked hard in Regent Park to come together,
use the beauty of the system to organize, advocate, and work with my neighbors
to access a $500-million fund.
And we were able to revitalize not only the buildings,
but the community, our home - Regent Park.
And today -
(Applause)
today, I have lawyer friends, who are moving into Regent Park,
buying condominiums.
The experiences of generosity
as well as these other experiences that are debilitating are both real.
And as a country, we have to remember
that although we remain generous and welcoming,
we have a long way to go in our treatment of visible minorities
and our challenge with systemic racism.
But, did you know that in Canada,
9.5% of federal inmates are black
even though black Canadians only constitute 3% of our population?
Did you know that between 2003 to 2013,
the number of black inmates in federal prisons went up by 80%?
Eighty percent! Think about that.
Did you know that black Canadians are three times more likely
to find themselves in a low-income household
than European Canadians?
What do these statistics tell us?
It tell us that we are not a perfect country,
that we have problems.
But does that mean that Canada is not great?
No.
I believe Canada is great because we want to do better,
and we don't believe in hiding our flaws.
That is why we have to have discussions on race, identity, privilege.
We have to acknowledge
that racial discrimination and a lack of inclusion exist.
We have to acknowledge that privilege is real.
We have to acknowledge
that not each one of us has the same opportunities
and the same social support.
These conversations are difficult, they are uncomfortable,
but we need to have these conversations
because if we don't,
it is as if we're saying that we're invisible.
That is what it means
when you hear the cry of people who say, "Black lives matter."
And so, when you examine Canada,
and you examine what it means to be a great country,
I challenge you to re-evaluate what greatness means.
We have defined greatness in a wrong manner.
We should [redefine] greatness.
And look at your personal and professional lives,
look at the leaders that you see.
Do you consider a leader great when he or she thumps his or her chest
and proclaims their greatness for everyone to hear?
Or do you consider a leader great
who acknowledges his or her flaws, who listens intently,
and who inspires people to action?
I challenge each one of you.
A lot of people come to me and say,
"We can't fix systemic racism. I'm only one person.
It's abstract, it's big."
But we can all check our unconscious biases,
like the parent who pulls their child closer
when a black man passes by.
I challenge each one of you.
In addition to examining your strengths, look at your weaknesses.
And I know it's hard
because it puts you in a vulnerable situation.
But be vulnerable,
because through that vulnerability you'll be able to develop from within,
and you can move forward.
And being vulnerable as a country is powerful on the international stage,
because when countries become vulnerable
and expose their flaws to transnational problems -
like climate change,
or our approach to our indigenous brothers and sisters -
it's only then that we can work together to correct those flaws.
And this is not just an idea of national greatness;
it is an idea of individual success.
And I'll repeat myself: be vulnerable.
Be vulnerable. Be vulnerable.
Because through that vulnerability,
you are able to develop and build from within,
build yourself, build your family, your community,
and yes, your country, Canada.
My name is Ahmed Hussen.
I'm black, I'm Muslim, I'm a refugee.
I'm Canadian, and I am proud.
Thank you very much.
(Applause) (Cheers)