“What Has Changed Here, Really?”: Anti-Racist Activism in Canada’s Former Hate Crime Capital

[Originally written August 23, 2020, Imported from my old website on August 8, 2024]

I am a Black woman who was born and raised in the Region of Waterloo, the former hate crime capital of Canada.

I have experienced racism in many forms from my fellow community members, from microaggressions from a professor at the university I attend about the unprofessionalism of the coils of my hair to violent passersby commanding the rest of a local barbershop’s patrons and me to “GO BACK TO AFRICA”. Still, I love my community and the potential I see for its growth in the coming years; we are home to some of the nation’s top post-secondary institutions, over a thousand technology companies, and many significant historical landmarks. But during these times following the recent reignition of the Black Lives Matter movement, I think it is important to recognize our own region’s long-standing ties to racism that have been shrouded by our evolution as an innovation hub. Kitchener’s very name after all, as acknowledged by our city council members, commemorates a British Earl who established concentration camps during the Boer War.

Activism in Canada (and the rest of the world) has been transforming as the general public continues gaining access to new technological developments and phenomena. Viral videos, such as the one of George Floyd’s murder filmed by 17-year-old Darnella Frazier, can be captured by anyone and reach audiences on a global scale in an instant. Amidst the COVID-19 pandemic and the abrupt inability to gather in large groups for health reasons, online activism is not only “trendy” but also safer and lawful for all of us who would otherwise be marching in the streets. Because many companies still allow their employees to work remotely, Canadians have the opportunity to engage with more social and news media than ever before. Jobs that typically wouldn’t take place online now do, and with more traffic comes more potential engagement with social media activist posts.

Although past discussions about social media protests emphasized the ineffectiveness of relying on online political and social activism for leading systemic change, times are changing. In 2019, an article published in The Atlantic argued that protests of the future will need to learn how to combine the accessibility of the internet and online connectivity with the longstanding ethos of physical marching. Antonia Malchik writes: “Digital technology has opened up unimaginable worlds of access and connectivity, but it has also brought into question its role in undermining the foundations of governments built by people, for people. The realities of face-to-face contact and in-person mass protests, the tools of centuries of struggle for full citizenship and rights, have become even more essential to grounding us as we navigate through a new era of humans’ relationships with technology”. However cynical of protest methods that aren’t face-to-face this article may be, its closing line leaves the door open with a call to action that new era protesters ought to find a way to make the accessibility of the internet work in their favour: “New eras of protest will have to learn how to combine the ease and speed of online connectivity with the long-term face-to-face organizing that gives physical protest its strength and staying power”.

Though not claiming it to be entirely impossible, Malchik acknowledges that there will be a learning curve to leading successful protest movements using digital technology. Due to recent factors following the nationwide lockdown during the COVID-19 pandemic, we have inadvertently been given the chance to experiment with how virtual social justice events might work, and it seems fitting to me that a community that boasts its innovative technologies would be one to test these waters.

In May, despite looming anxieties about the COVID-19 pandemic, Kitchener-Waterloo showed up for its Black and Indigenous communities in a big way. Led by community leaders Selam Debs and Carla Beharry, in conjunction with Black Lives Matter Waterloo Region, the KW Solidarity March was deemed the largest peaceful protest in response to the Black Lives Matter movement across all of Canada. 20,000 allies physically marched while wearing masks which were made mandatory by the march’s organizers, and another 4,000 attended virtually by livestream. I’ve recently learned that over $17,000 (as of today) has been raised by our community in response to the march.

Two months later, I reflect to myself: “So, what has changed here, really?”

To me, the KW Solidarity March was a glimpse into the future of protests and improved accessibility for participants of social justice movements. For those who really do care about making changes within our communities but are immunocompromised, at-risk, or otherwise typically impeded from physical attendance, there are new opportunities to express dissent online safely. The greater picture about what has changed here is that, against the mantras of those who argue technologies are only working to disconnect us from genuine connections to those around us, we have lived experience that virtual protests can and should be taken seriously. Jason Farman argues that conflating mobile media with meaningless interactions is actually doing a disservice to the productive ways in which we are connecting with our environments and the people we interact with the help of technology. I concur. Thousands of people showing their support for marginalized community members during a time of forced social isolation have shown this.

The story of the KW Solidarity March embodies the current climate of collective action perfectly. Creative, digital methods to fight for improved human rights conditions for all are being developed so that BlPOC community members and their allies can be safe while still allowing for the amplification of their voices. From the transcript of the march from Facebook Live, one viewer, Sarah Dela Cruz, comments “Imagine how many people would be there if not for the pandemic! Thankful for this live stream and the messages being shared” and five others chimed in with a grateful “me too!”. Some attendees, including myself, were more specific in their reasonings for attending virtually instead of in person, including those who are primary caretakers of at-risk family members or living with essential workers who are more likely to have been exposed to the virus.

The maximum potential for driving executive-level change via social media is still unknown, and the not knowing can be scary. Some people are still critical of the lifespan of online advocacy work, arguing that the staying power of in-person interactions is more sustainable than fleeting trends on the internet. Others argue that there is still a lot of work to be done in terms of figuring out how to successfully politically organize. I do believe in the power of in-person events. I am thankful for those marchers who came before me and allowed me – ultimately – to be here today writing this paper. I have attended multiple protests. However, I also recognize that virtual events are the now and they are the future.

Will we ever get another chance to log onto our laptops from our living rooms and participate in a display of political dissent? Will full-time labourers be able to split the screen on their computer monitors to donate while on the job? Will children be able to miss classes to watch history unfold within the bounds of their own townships?

Why not?

Although my city is not perfect, we have successfully tapped into a new resource of advocates for change, and on top of that, one that is less discriminatory. Facebook’s live-streaming services and our dedicated event organizers have made it possible for all activists in the area to participate in an important movement – no matter their age, race, disability, religion, health concerns, etc., which is a big step towards inclusivity in our region. It’s a step that many current and former residents of Kitchener-Waterloo never anticipated happening.

Learn from our small town and help yours do better. If we really love our communities, the least we can do is try. The easiest we can do is log in.