If there’s a single question that haunts all non-white people living in North America, it’s this one: “So, where are you from?”

“We are socialized to accept less.” This is part of a quote from my friend, Angelina, as we were having a discussion on relationships. She went on to say that as a black woman, she has to give allowances to black men for our bad behaviour. She made it clear that she isn’t the exception, either. That most black women share this mindset.

We have a responsibility as black writers to share our stories. That’s the new narrative for writers of colour.

These thoughts have been weighing on my heart and lately, I can’t escape them. As close as my daughter and I are now, as much as we’ve been through together and as much as I know she’s genuinely happy, there’s this constant feeling of guilt and shame that still haunts me.

Like many, I have closely followed the case of Cyntoia Brown. Hers is a tragic and troubling tale that has recently reignited debate about the galling sexist, classist and racist inconsistencies of the American justice system.

Two weeks ago, before the official municipal election results, I wrote about how the history of racist attitudes within Ontario’s education system have followed us up until present day.

Less than a mere decade before my birth, there were Black children in Ontario “learning” under a segregated school system. They endured cramped classrooms with dim lighting and toilets that would only flush with the aid of water in a bucket.

Maxime Bernier has had a busy year.