My name is Donna Paris
And I am Black History

The story, I am told, is that my great-great-grandfather came to Nova Scotia from Ireland once slavery was abolished in Great Britain. Despite the many hardships he faced, he managed to send his three sons to university and dream into the future so I can have the life I now live.

I am Black History

The story, I am told, is that my white great-grandmother came to Nova Scotia from France. She met and fell in love with a Black man. Her family said, “You can have him or you can have us.” Their union produced my grandfather, who produced my mother, who produced me.

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A boat named No Justice floats in the bay.
Gleams of gentle light peek at the horizon.
I hear the incessant juddering of the grass cutter.
The dull hum, an unruly crowd–a thousand terns
descending. Their outcry fades, that word rises.

Spewed by the Amherst councilman.
Tattooed where the children watch–
at the base of Glace Bay’s skateboard park.
Overheard at the Toronto York School Board.

Like a knife scraped over my old wound
still tender to the touch.

(From Understorey Magazine, Issue 12, 2017)

Power
thought they took it away
when they exchanged our crowns for chains
Pain
Embedded
not knowing where I was headed
Lost
I tried to remember the footprints
In the sand
I followed the man
to a ship
enslaved
On it engraved
“Blacks only”

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Imagine walking into a space where you automatically feel out of place because nobody’s face is identifiable with your race and

Imagine walking into a store and being watched like a hawk, or getting pulled over by the cops for simply wanting to “talk” and

Can you imagine having the ambition to apply for a job position, only to later find out that your surname is under suspicion?

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