I’d been to protests in Toronto before — none of them were anything like this.
Over 1,000 people gathered in Nathan Phillips Square on March 4th. The rest of the city was oblivious to what was happening; people walked by with shopping bags and ice skates while a few feet away protesters were being arrested, people were chanting and rivalries were formed.
Two groups were at protest. On one side was the Canadian Coalition of Concerned Citizens (CCCC). They were the reason that everyone had gathered. The group came together to protest parliament’s M-103 bill which aims to: “condemn Islamophobia and all forms of systemic racism and religious discrimination.”
In other words, this group hates the religion of Islam. They do not want Muslims in our communities and believe the M-103 bill removes their ability to state this freely.
On the other side were the counter-protesters; in my opinion, the rational side. They arrived to protest CCCC, in solidarity with the Muslim community. They had signs. They had drums. They had a lot to say about being a welcoming neighbour and spreading love.
A border was formed between the two groups by police officers. I was one of the many few who got to freely cross the border whenever I pleased; my camera was my ticket to both sides.
Crossing the police border into CCCC territory created a pit in my stomach. Immediately, I could tell people were confused. This side had many men and few people of colour. Their furrowed brows seemed to say: What the hell is this black girl doing on our side? I answered their question by simply taking their pictures.
“So what are you here for? Which side are you on? Who do you support?”
Had I known crossing into CCCC territory would turn into a game of 21 questions, I would have brought my own sign which read: I am here to document your protest. I am not here to debate. I will take your picture.
Standing with the Canadian Coalition of Concerned Citizens made me uneasy. It felt like someone was always staring at me and it wasn’t for a good reason.
I heard mean, hateful things and saw ugly sides of people that I will never forget.
“Muslim lives matter!” the counter-protesters shouted.
A man approached the border dividing the two groups. “Muslim lives don’t matter. You should be ashamed of yourself for being black and Muslim,” he said.
I could not comprehend how another person could look someone in the eyes and blatantly say these things. This man was a person of colour; usually people of colour stand in solidarity with one another.
This man was so guided by hatred and fear that it seemed he forgot the colour of his own skin. As a minority, it is inevitable that he has faced barriers in his own life, yet there he was, perpetuating injustice towards the Muslim community.
When a brave, Muslim journalist made her way onto the CCCC side, she was hounded with questions about her religion, her womanhood and her culture.
She stood her ground and instinctively I stood right next to her. I had to intervene when the men debating got extremely close to her face. They were very angry and much bigger than her.
“You can have a discussion without being that close to her,” I reminded them. I had my hand stretched out as a barrier between her and them. “Just because you can intimidate her does not automatically mean your view is right.”
“You and your friend need to go read the Qu’ran,” a man replied.
Apparently, because I had stepped in, we had to be friends who came together. I’m sure she is a lovely human being, but we were complete strangers. I had stepped in because were I her, I would hope someone would do the same thing for me.
I left the Canadian Coalition of Concerned Citizens holding back tears.
It was as if the bubble I had been living in was abruptly popped. I knew people had prejudice towards different races, but to show hate this outwardly? I did not think I would see this in Toronto. Ever.
Luckily, the counter-protesters weren’t leaving any time soon. They came prepared to stand up for the rights of the Muslim community. I gladly crossed over to their side.
Immediately, the atmosphere changed. As I crossed towards the counter-protesters, I was greeted with smiles. I had conversations that lead to people asking me how long I had been out in the cold and if I was keeping warm. My hair was complimented. People looked at me and I saw appreciation in their eyes. I felt completely at ease.
Since the Trump regime began, the media has seen the persecution of Muslim communities over and over again.
A Muslim travel ban, a mosque shooting in Quebec, vandalism of mosques, violent acts against innocent Muslims — there’s something new every week.
What the Canadian Coalition of Concerned Citizens need to understand is that they are guided by a fear that has been instilled in them. They focus on radical sects of Islam and generalize all who follow the religion as “women-hating terrorists.”
Similar to how we don’t generalize all priests as molesters, not all Muslims belong to ISIS. Similar to how we don’t look down on a nun for wearing a veil, it’s unnecessary to look down on any women wearing the hijab.
I could find more understanding if you come from a small town, but we live in Toronto; broaden your perceptions of people because the Muslim community is not going anywhere.
I’d like to say the counter-protesters restored my faith in humanity but the story continues, it never stops at a protest.
All photos copyright of Imani Walker
Imani Walker 