Last night, I had the pleasure of celebrating the beginning of Black History Month at a youth organized/led event in one of the communities I work with. It was amazing.
Not that I’m surprised.
I don’t believe there is a limit to what youth are able to accomplish with passion, purpose and the right partnerships/mentors.
I’ve worked with youth for most of my life, in some capacity. Professionally, for the last 14 years.
Before I worked in shelters, I lived in them.
Before I helped people secure housing, I slept on the streets.
Before I told youth the importance of staying in school, I dropped out.
Before I worked for social services, I was dependant on them.
Before I worked with addictions, I went to rehab.
Before I worked with women and children surviving violence, I was a victim.
Before I worked with mental health, I tried to kill myself.
Before I called City Hall my office, I sold drugs outside of it.
Young mother. Eating disorder. Poor. Speaking English as a second language. Child of newcomers to Canada. Single mother. Welfare. Homeless. Drug addict. Street kid. Connected to the street life. Drug dealer. High school dropout. Broken. VICTIM.
I watched my friends die. I watched my friends go to prison. I watched the world, as they watched me, waiting for me to fail again and again. I was everything they told me I would be. Everything and Nothing. Another wasted youth.
But I WAS more than that. I WANTED more than that. I DESERVED more than that. I was BETTER than that!
And so I sought the path that would allow me to accept who I was and what I had done. I wouldn’t allow myself to be defined by others, but I embraced everything I had experienced as part of my journey.
For years, I’ve watched youth workers tell youth that they are better than what the world sees. That they can strive for something greater than what generations before us had. That they can have whatever they want if they put the energy and effort into getting it.
“You’re better than that!”
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve repeated that line myself.
Last night, I stayed to help clean up after the event. It was held at a Recreation Centre and things got pretty messy. There was a large spill on the floor and I quickly ran to get the mop from the custodian. As I was mopping up the spill, a young girl looked at me and said “Why are you mopping? You’re better than that!”
The only thing I could think to say at the time was, “No, I will never be above mopping.”
And then I reflected on that for the rest of the evening.
After all these years of sharing that message, I realized that something went wrong. We focused so much on encouraging youth to believe in themselves and their abilities, and somehow we failed to explain what that really meant.
“You’re better than that!”
That was never meant to minimize the value of others and the roles that they play. I’m not above mopping a floor, scrubbing a toilet, serving food. I’m not better than anyone.
I come from a long line of general labourers and cleaners. My family, my friends, they did what they had to do to survive. How can I think of myself as better than the people that fed me, clothed me, raised me? What does a belief like that do to us?
Instead of teaching youth to strive to be better versions of themselves, we have taught them to perpetuate oppression. To believe that certain roles should only be held by certain people.
Who, then, is not better than mopping floors?
We have taught them to judge people and their worth by the jobs they hold, or don’t hold. By the things they possess or fail to possess. We’ve taught them that they should strive to be better than “those people”, whoever they are.
We didn’t do it intentionally, but we missed a big part of the message.
We missed the piece where we teach the value of everyone.
Everything.
Every role.
We failed to teach them to think critically about how our class systems were created. About who defined what roles were important and who would play those roles in our society.
We failed to explain that life is about working together to clean up our world, literally and figuratively.
We failed and we need to do better.
Youth.
The possibilities are endless.
And miles to go before I sleep 