When approached to do this article for Women’s History Month, I pondered writing it solely from the perspective of a woman, which is my undeniable fact, but how can I write only from this vantage point, when I am also a BLACK WOMAN, and that too is an undeniable fact. My own personal intersectionality reads like the characters out of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, the literary knife and fork, like my duality, inseparable and interchangeable.

As I sit to write, I acknowledge to you my gender and my equity, my knife and my fork. Each day, every day, I live with the barriers and challenges of sexism and racism, for this too is my intersectionality; being black and being a woman are both of my identities. I cannot ever stop thinking about racism, it is not a choice, it is my reality.

I have been preoccupied with thoughts of injustices, heightened after the deaths of Regis Korchinski-Paquet, Breonna Taylor and of course, who could forget, the brutal and inhumane murder of George Floyd. I watched (as we all did), in horror as he gasped for air and begged for mercy, all 8 minutes and 46 seconds of “reality television”, one that could easily be my reality.

This year the theme for Women’s History Month is #becauseofyou, I have been mulling this over in my mind and wondering how this translates into my life, not only as a woman, but also as a black woman. Women and Gender Equality Canada (WAGE) states, “This year’s theme… is inspired by those here in Canada and around the world who work to advance gender equality in their communities”. Somehow, this is not relatable to me and does not seem to include my lived experiences, not in the way I think it is intended. I work in my community, in my union, trying to always bring and utilize the lens of my equity as a woman while challenged by my equity of my race. Most times, I feel that I am failing my community, failing to do enough. Racism against blacks have cornered me into a reality that encompasses:

#becauseofyou I am fearful

#becauseofyou I feel silenced

#becauseofyou I feel powerless

#becauseofyou I feel hopeless

#becauseofyou It is unsafe to stand up for my rights

#becauseofyou I feel ignored

#becauseofyou I am invisible

#becauseofyou I am hyper-vigilant

#becauseofyou I am angry and hurt

In this climate of racial unrest, many women, mothers, nurturers are fighting the effects of emotional fatigue, having to face the new and revisit the old, as attempts are made to navigate the landscape of those now “woke” and demanding change. It is difficult to get people of privilege to care, care after the protests are over, the coalitions have disbanded, the hashtags are no longer trending on Twitter and the social media pages have shut down.

How do you get them to continue to care and remain invested when no one is looking and notoriety is nowhere in site?

As activists, the term ‘’safe spaces” is bandied about but it is those who have privilege that are positioned to create said safe spaces destined for those of us who find ourselves struggling for and demanding equality. It is in this way that they have the best of both worlds, with the choice to hang up their walking shoes, their activism apparel and retire into their own achievements. This simply does not exist for the Black woman.

The privileged amongst us are able to wield the baton of allyship, a privilege that can be used as an advantage or they can simply choose to walk away. For me, I am unable to leave my blackness at the door, just as much as I am unable to dismiss the very nature of my womanhood. Despite the inherent conflict that my intersectionality creates, it also enables the re-creation of one’s own perception of gender and race, my very own Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

#becauseofyou I will be strong

#becauseofyou I will not give up the fight/struggle

#becauseofyou I will be determined

#becauseofyou I will not silence my voice

#becauseofyou I will stand up for what is right

Hayley Millington
UNE National Equity Representative for Racially Visible People

Between 1725 and 1761, the L’nu, also known as the Mi’kmaq, signed treaties of peace and friendship with representatives of the British crown.  These treaties did not cede lands and included the right to harvest natural resources to support a moderate livelihood.  These treaties have not always been upheld by the crown, as evidenced by the arrest of Donald Marshall Jr. in 1993 for catching and selling $787.10 worth of eels. 

Marshall, who had been recognized in 1990 by a royal commission that identified racism as a factor in his wrongful imprisonment for murder, went to the Supreme Court to uphold his fishing rights. The 1999 Marshall decision affirmed Mi’kmaw treaty rights to a moderate livelihood from hunting and fishing. The Supreme Court clarified their decision later that year by stating that the treaty rights were still subject to government regulation. 

In September 2020, the Sipekne’katik First Nation, frustrated by the lack of recognition for their treaty rights in federal fisheries legislation, launched their own self-managed lobster fishery with licenses for 350 traps. The seven small boats were met by commercial fishers in larger boats who harassed them, stole, or cut loose their traps and vandalized their boats. While the commercial fishers’ representatives cited conservation issues, many racist taunts were heard on the waters and seen on social media. The Sipekne’katik lobster fishery represents about 0.1% of lobster harvesting in their area, and their off-season harvesting is not considered to be a conservation issue by fisheries experts. 

Similar conflicts have been happening in Mi’kma’ki since the Marshall decision 21 years ago, with federal officials and law enforcement failing to intervene in many cases. 

The Union of National Employees (UNE) recognizes that we are all treaty people and encourages our members in the Atlantic Region and across Canada to uphold treaty rights. October is Mi’kmaq History Month.

Helen Zebedee
UNE Regional Representative for Human Rights, Atlantic

Native People and non-native people of Canada will be honouring the Indigenous residential school survivors and remember those who did not survive by wearing orange shirts. Orange Shirt Day was started in 2013. It was created to educate people and promote awareness about the Indian residential school system and the impact this system had on Indigenous communities for more than a century in Canada, and still does today.

The Orange shirt has become the symbol of overcoming adversity. Why orange? Because of Phyllis Jack Webstad from the Stswecem’c Xgat’tem First Nation, who went to St. Joseph Mission Residential School. On her first day of school, Phyllis wore a new orange shirt that her grandmother had given her. It was immediately taken away, and that was the start of Phyllis’s alienation from her family and community, a genocide caused by actions of the church and the federal government.

Many Indigenous children, about thirty percent of indigenous children were sent to Residential Schools. Students were taught English and punished for speaking their Native language. However, Canada‘s residential (boarding) schools inadequately preparing students to live in white society or to return to their reserves. Europeans main goal was to “Kill the Indian in the Child”.

Orange Shirt Day is a time for us all to remember those events and to make aware to mainstream society what happened to Indigenous children because it is not in the history books, and the intergenerational effects on today’s indigenous population. This day shows the continuing strength and resilience of Indigenous peoples.

Lenora Maracle
UNE National Equity Representative for Aboriginal Peoples