Parallels across borders

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

In June 2020, I moved to Canada on an empty flight from Singapore. Canada, and more specifically Scarborough, was not new to me, as I had made several visits since childhood to visit my extended family. However, moving on a permanent basis made me nervous, especially at the thought of where and how I would fit in.

Navigating place and identity has always been a part of my life as a Tamil woman growing up in war-torn Sri Lanka. I was born in Jaffna, the northern part of Sri Lanka, during the height of the civil war. By the age of 5, I had lived in 15 different places due to repeated internal displacements. I grew up in the context of ethnic conflict, violence, systemic discrimination and oppression. Growing up in cosmopolitan Colombo, I silently endured implicit and overt racism, I swallowed my anger as I watched civilians being bombed on cable TV because the local channels seldom covered the civil war, and I hung my head in shame when the end of the war was broadcast with celebrations and pride in the Anglican school I attended. Simply speaking out about the injustices was sufficient to be branded as a terrorist sympathizer, and so I spent my adolescent years attempting to “fit in,” while also wrestling with the injustice my people were facing.

As I discerned my career path, I felt God’s call to use my strengths to further justice, truth and accountability. I worked for over five years as a researcher on post-war justice and reconciliation. My work took me into homes of mothers who were searching for their missing children for decades, communities protesting for the release of occupied land and spaces of deep grief and undying resilience. There were times my work felt meaningful, and there were even more times when it felt futile, as the state mechanism repeatedly denied attempts towards truth-telling and accountability. So, when my partner decided to move to Canada, I felt confused as to what my future work would entail.

It was not until I was a master’s student in Singapore, taking an elective on the interaction of Christianity with other spiritual beliefs, that I began to uncover the dark history of Canada’s relationship with Indigenous peoples. Learning about residential schools shocked me. As I learned about the policies behind these institutions, it was difficult for me to comprehend how the Church partnered with the state to “kill the Indian in the child.” It was the beginning of my ongoing journey to learn about the injustices that the Indigenous people have faced and continue to face in Canada.

While acknowledging the nuanced experiences of settler colonialism in Canada, I also see parallels between the experiences of the Tamils in Sri Lanka and the Indigenous peoples in Canada. I resonate with the feeling of being alienated, othered and erased from our own lands and homes. I understand what it is to have to work with the same powers that explicitly tried to eradicate nations of people with no regard for human life or dignity. And I continue to deal with intergenerational trauma and social issues that stem from years of oppression, violence and discrimination.

My calling here is different. It is a calling of allyship, which includes proactively learning from Indigenous peoples, listening to their stories and their calls for justice and reparations. Where possible, to support and create space for Indigenous voices to be heard. To be courageous enough to walk alongside Indigenous Nations when they stand up to systemic oppression, ongoing colonialism and denial of truths. And finally, to humbly steward the land and waters which we are grateful to call home.

I share my own journey with you, dear reader, to encourage you to participate in reconciliation. Whether you are an immigrant, settler or a sojourner, you are called to participate in this journey of reconciliation.