A few weeks ago I went on a community nature walk through the Vancouver Renfrew Ravine Park led by Lori Snyder, a Métis herbalist and educator. The walk was a project organized by Fellows from the Muslim Community Fellowship, and was a wonderful afternoon, filled with learning, reflection and good company. I love gardens and nature, but I struggle to identify plants and trees, and I often don’t notice the details of what’s in front of me when I walk. Walking with Lori was an opportunity to zoom in, to notice details, and to not just see the greenness of a park or ravine, but to actually better understand what is around us. Lori’s advice to us was to just try and understand one plant and get to know it better, and over time to try and get to know other plants too. Her wisdom and the wisdom of the group was an invitation and an opening to be in better relationship with nature, to cultivate a friendship with the natural world, to eat differently and decolonize our diets and to strive for internal peace. I madly tried to take notes throughout, but this is only a small portion of what was shared during the hours we spent together. Jumbled as they are, I thought I would share my notes from our conversations with Lori here:
During my graduate studies in Planning at the University of Toronto, my major research project explored conflicts that arise when communities go through the planning approval process to build new mosques. I examined the role of planners in deconstructing and challenging those conflicts. Mosques are some of the most contested building developments in the world, and by and large, when mosques applications are up for approval, deep community opposition about parking regulations, traffic, and compatible architecture among other complaints arise through the community consultation process.
Years later, I still feel resistant towards conversations about heritage because of what I learnt through that project about how arguments about compatible architecture can be deployed to oppose the spatial needs of non-dominant communities. And so when I saw Heritage Vancouver’s October 9th event titled “What do we do about neighbourhoods?” the second conversation in their “Shaping Vancouver: What’s the Use of Heritage?” series, my interest was piqued. One of my goals over the next twelve months is to learn more about planning in Vancouver. Since most programs in the city aimed at increasing civic education and involvement are aimed at the under 30 age group, and I fall outside of that bracket, I’m learning on my own, and this event felt like a good step on my learning journey. (On that note, anyone who is interested in starting/creating the equivalent of the DiverseCity Fellowship or the Maytree Policy School we need you in Vancouver.)
But I digress. I admit, I was nervous to attend the Heritage Vancouver event. When I think about planners or conversations about cities, I often imagine planners and community members who are white, male, and passionate about bike lanes. I don’t imagine someone who looks like myself: racialized, female and Muslim. At the event I was overwhelmingly in the minority and I quickly sought out the other racialized women at the event. (As a sidebar: It can be a bit daunting to share your thoughts in such a space, and I recommend approaches like the one described here to structure post-event question periods so that questions not just follow the order of hands that go up, but actively seek to hear from different voices in the room.)
The panel had four panelists: Jada-Gabrielle Pape, a facilitator and consultant with Courage Consulting, Jennifer Maiko Bradshaw, a pro-housing activist and Director of Abundant Housing Vancouver, Richard Evans from RePlan, a committee of the False Creek South Neighbourhood Association and Scot Hein, adjunct professor in the Master of Urban Design program at UBC. More detailed bios and information about the panelists can be found here.
Here are my takeaways and questions from what the panelists shared that night.
Does your organization have equity policies and practices to help you become a more welcoming, inclusive workplace? Do these policies and practices address how to be a faith-friendly workplace? With Ramadan just around the corner, now is an excellent time to revisit how your company/organization can support or become better at supporting faith identities, and though this is not an exhaustive list, here are eleven suggestions to become an organization that is more inclusive of Muslim employees.
For the past two and a half years I’ve been thinking about the following question: What helps young people graduating from postsecondary institutions best transition to the world of work? That question has been at the heart of the digital offerings I’ve created, the writing I’ve done and the programs and workshops I’ve designed. And as part of that work, I’ve read a lot, and spoken to hundreds of students and many faculty members to witness and support their experiences, their pain points and their questions. In addition to hearing those stories however, over the past few years, I’ve become increasingly interested in the larger systems that influence our experiences of work. In August 2018, I went to Kingston Ontario to attend the Queens International Social Policy Institute titled “The Future of Work: Where do we go from here?” Going to Kingston was an opportunity to deepen my knowledge about emerging trends in the world of work and to meet academics, government officials and policy analysts from around the country and internationally working in this space. It was an incredible experience, and you can learn more about the panelists and their sessions here.
And so a few months ago when I came across Sarah Kessler’s 2018 book “Gigged: The End of the Job and the Future of Work” in a Johannesburg bookstore, I was intrigued. Written over six years, the book follows debates about the changing world of work and demonstrates that not only is the world of work becoming much more precarious but depending on who you are, this precarity can manifest as highly desirable flexibility or deeply troubling instability that erodes real wages and worker benefits. Using stories to guide her narrative along, in Part 1 and 2, Kessler describes how the age of the job as we know it is ending, and notes that the gig economy is appealing because modern workplaces increasingly demand more from workers and are built on the structure of single breadwinner families even though, more often than not, that structure does not resemble what families look like today. Given the pressure of 9-5 (and beyond) work, the gig economy has felt like a key to more flexible work that can help families and individuals where both partners are working to structure their work in more life-suitable ways, and a way to create work opportunities for those who cannot find traditional work:
“We are all related, all connected. The Native way is to bring the oppressor into our circle of healing. Healing cannot occur unless everyone is part of the process. Let it begin.” (p.181)
In my first job after graduate school, I coordinated a fundraising campaign supporting social priorities in the Greater Vancouver area that raised over a million dollars over two campaign cycles. After that role, I moved to Toronto, and worked at United Way Toronto supporting community projects in a donor engagement capacity. Because of these experiences, over the past few years I’ve been a part of reviewing grants within different organizational environments. The more I am involved in gathering and disseminating money, the more interested I become in how to do philanthropy well.
So I was thrilled when I came across Edgar Villanueva’s book “Decolonizing Wealth”, a book that is a clarion call to rethink the way foundations and philanthropic organizations operate, relate to others and seek to create change in the world. The subtitle of the book: “Indigenous wisdom to heal divides and restore balance” is a theme throughout, and Villanueva’s thoughtful, generous reflections on how we need everyone in order to create a decolonized world left me with softer perspectives, a wider heart and a desire to live my life in deep relationship with others.
The book is divided into two sections. The first section, titled “Where it Hurts”, outlines problems with the philanthropic sector, and evokes slavery with each chapter title to powerfully remind us that wealth in North America is more likely than not created through systems of oppression, and acts of theft and violence. In this section, Villanueva describes how philanthropy itself is based on colonial notions of separation and scarcity, notes that philanthropic organizations typically mirror colonial principles, outlines how funding largely does not reach people of colour, details how philanthropic organizations often do not share power meaningfully with those more marginalized, and critiques the sector for generally not addressing intersectionality well and creating unnecessary barriers to funding through the way applications are administered.
Reading about the pain and problems in the sector, it seems an impossible task to reform philanthropic spaces. But this is a book of hope, and in the second part of the book titled “How to Heal”, Villaneuva outlines seven steps (grieve, apologize, listen, relate, invest, repair) on how to heal and decolonize our relationship with wealth in order to use money for social good. Villanueva’s arguments are compelling, and are supported by the deeply personal stories he shares, his interviews with numerous practitioners in the field, and the scores of articles, books and scholars he references. This book invites readers to read more and there is so much this book offers for its reader to look up and continue learning.
Though this is not an exhaustive list, here are some of my take-aways from the read.
A few weeks ago while in South Africa on holiday, every time I passed by a bookstore I stopped to check if they had a copy of “We’re Going to Need More Wine” by Gabrielle Union. But from Johannesburg to Cape Town, the book was sold out. And so, as soon as I was back in Canada, I wasted no time trying to find a copy of it in my local library.
The book did not disappoint. Union describes the relentless advocacy needed when you are trying to support children of colour through the school system, gives advice to get over heartbreak, explores why Hollywood is so white, is honest about the power differentials that arise when you have a different income from your partner, describes the pain of miscarriage, talks about importance of investing in people and curating gatherings that matter, shares why you need to find your voice, value yourself, and be brave, and urges her readers to recognize that comparison and tearing people down does nothing for you in addition to many other topics. Overall, Union covers a lot of ground in this book, and reading it felt like spending a weekend or several hours with a wise, honest friend who is not going to hold back in her advice. I loved it.
What stuck with me the most from this book however, is Union’s reflections on career. Over the past two years, I’ve spoken to hundreds of students about building a career of meaningful work, and for me, this book was a reminder that when it comes to finding work as a person of colour, your experiences are not determined solely by what your resume looks like or how good your networking skills are. How employers make space for you and respond to you plays a role in your employment experiences too. And so, given that the average career book does not offer advice on how to navigate the job market as a racialized person, here are five take-aways from the book to help you both navigate the world of work as a racialized person or a co-conspirator trying to support the career journeys of others.
What does it mean to not be a mother? Who does such a life look like? This question lies at the heart of Sheila Heti’s extraordinary, deeply intimate and also strange book titled “Motherhood” and published in 2018. In the first Seriously Planning podcast episode of 2019, I share six reflections and take-aways I took from this book.