A Fight for Survival: From Toronto to Halifax

In the year of 2020, the ugly portrait of political injustices I had witnessed during my entire lifetime received the brightest splashes of colour I had ever witnessed. Watching historical injustices unfold, from the (dis)comfort of my own home, was the most abnormal part of it all. Global issues that once seemed so distant really weren’t so far from my doorstep after all. I participated in my first protest, I had difficult discussions, I read, and I researched.

In June, the tragic death of Regis Korchinski-Paquet -a Black and Indigenous woman who fell from her apartment balcony after an encounter with the police- led me to a sit-in, in front of the Toronto police headquarters. While sitting and chanting on College street, the streets of Halifax, over 1000 kilometres away, filled with hundreds of protesters as well. At the time, I did not know that Regis, like me, was also a woman of Nova Scotian roots.

I believe, the traumas inflicted by social and political institutions on marginalized persons, is naturally entrenched within the fabric of all territories with colonial beginnings. This is why, in Canada, after centuries of violence towards Black communities, patterns of destruction and homicide continuously reoccur. That summer, in 2020, I began researching how these patterns have personally affected my communities, my ancestors, my family. My most surprising discovery, was reading my grandmother’s last name in documents tied to Africville. I knew the history of this village, but I didn’t know that it was my own.

The truth is, both my Black Caribbean and Nova Scotian roots don’t offer me a very clear picture of my family’s past. The city of Halifax, where my family is from, is home to Black Loyalists, Trelawney Maroons and Chesapeake Bay-area Blacks. Each of these groups have their own distinct histories involving a quest for Black liberation, but I’m not yet sure which one of them belongs to my own family. There’s a lot more research I need to do, a lot more questions I need to ask, and a lot more places (in Nova Scotia) I need to visit. I am disappointed that the peak of my curiosity occurred after loss and tragedy, but that is the grim reality in our communities. Our oppression often serves as a sad reminder that... nothing much has changed. The marches, the sit-ins, the demands, must continue. Finally, despite my unfamiliarity with Nova Scotian history, I know one thing remains true: the fight for our community’s survival is ongoing, even over 50 years after the last property in Africville came down.