Today (7th of June) in our city (Ontario London, Canada) there was a big march with thousands of attendants, in protest to injustice towards black people. Our family attended the action. There were many things that attracted my attention, from the large number of participants from all nationalities, colors and religions to slogans and placards and the kindness of human beings to each other with the distribution of water and food.
For me, the turning point was the end of the ceremony, when black people talked about their suffering and their bitter experiences.
One gentleman spoke of his life in the United States, which was forced to emigrate from the United States to Canada because of the racist behavior of the people and the police. A Canadian woman talked about being called out often with disgusting phrases such as “negro”, some animal names, or being called “ugly.” Another lady said “a white neighbor called police for me because a small part of my yard had grasses which were 5 cm taller than normal.” She said “me and my children always were under pressure in our neighborhood.” A young black man said, one of the students in the school called me “negro” in front of the teacher and my teacher didn’t say anything to him.
While the speeches were continuing, a little black boy caught my attention. I looked at this boy, who, regardless of everything, was smiling at the people around him. I wish from the bottom of my heart that, years later, when he grows up, he would have no experience similar to the ones that people shared. I hope that the future does not need to chant the slogan of “No Justice No Peace”.
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