9 A Conversation with Koubra Haggar and Sabreina Dahab hosted by McMaster students
Ahona Mehdi; Cassandra Garcia; Koubra Haggar; Sabreina Dahab; and Kojo Damptey
Kojo: Welcome to this episode. On this episode, we have Koubra.
Koubra: Hello.
Kojo: How are you?
Koubra: I’m okay, how are you doing?
Kojo: Good, good, good. We also have Ahona, Cassandra and our guest extraordinaire Sabreina with us. On this episode, we’re talking to Koubra. Koubra is known for many things. You did lots of work in the French board. Was it Catholic or public?
Koubra: Public.
Kojo: Public. You did a lot of work around that. Anti-Black racism in the French public board. Weren’t you one of the youngest board members?
Koubra: Well, that was for- so there’s actually a French, a new Francophone University that opened in Toronto, and I was the little board member. I was at the School Board as well as a student trustee, at the French School Board, but for the Francophone University, before we first opened. I think it was back in 2018, as the project was still being conceptualized and everything, and the government had I guess funded the project. They asked me to be a part of the project.
Kojo: Okay, so we got some former student trustees and a trustee in the house. And then you are a University of Toronto student, McMaster student. No? Ex-McMaster student. Okay, former.
Koubra: I graduated from McMaster, and now I’m at UofT.
Kojo: Okay. And you did some work with HESN, Hamilton Encampment Support Network? And then you were busy during COVID?
Koubra: Busy during COVID? We all were. We all were.
Ahona: Also a course developer here at McMaster.
Kojo: Oh, what was the course?
Koubra: That’s SCIENCE 2AR3. It was offered in Winter 2024 for the first time. It’s a course on race and science. Specifically just talking about equity, I guess, justice in the context of the sciences. And that’s with the Office of the Associate Dean EDII of the Faculty of Science, and I’m still on that team. We’re working right now on a fourth year course that’s going to be a research course, I guess, a sequel to the 2AR3 course that’s going to be offered in this coming winter 2025. It’s a research course on similar topics, just like the intersection between racial justice and science.
Kojo: Wow, see? That’s a long list. And there are some that we are not permitted to say on this podcast.
Koubra: Hey, listen. I’m not the only one here.
Kojo: Yeah. But a long list. But in that list, there are lots of things that you’ve done. And it’s different work, same work in different capacities. Oh, and I forgot. No. Before I forgot to mention this. So you were also quote-unquote what is it, the unofficial ED of HCCI, in the year 2022.
Koubra: I took on your torch.
Kojo: I don’t know about that. So, you led one of Hamilton’s institutional organizations. That’s big.
Koubra: Congrats to the both of us for that. No, yeah, that was great. And everybody made it great. I think I learned a lot from you in the process. It was fun. Chaotic, hectic? Yeah. But fun? Yeah, and I think just even working with the Black Youth Mentorship program specifically, I think that gave me a lot of energy. And I learned a lot.
Kojo: We could go on. This is a long CV, man. This is a long CV. So, basic question then is, we’ve listed some of the things you’ve done in Hamilton. So, what are some of the things that inspire you to do the work that you’ve done in the past, and then some of the stuff that you’re working on now?
Koubra: We often talk about this actually. I think even recently, I had a conversation with someone about how I think when you get into this work, especially when you’re younger, I want to say, like, I think we- I’m looking at Sabreina because I think a lot of the work that I started doing was with Sabreina when we were in high school. A lot of it feels like it comes out of necessity. I think one major event that I can remember was around police and use-of-force in a school context in the context of a disabled Black student at one of the high schools in Hamilton. And I think that was something that really energized us. I remember we met and talked about it. And at that time, we were, I was still in I think grade 10 or grade 11. And it was a big deal. And for me, especially at the beginning it was born out of that need to do something about the conditions, not having that much historical context, either, just based on personal experience, and based on what I was seeing in my community and what I was experiencing also myself as a Black, visibly Muslim–and by that I mean Hijab wearing Muslim woman. Those things I had to do something about in the moment, just as a critical, survival mode thing. Over time, I think you build community, you realize how bad things actually are. You take into consideration what’s going on across the city, to people like you or people that aren’t like you at all, either. And I think those things, and learning from those experiences, have kind of forced me in a way to be in this position, but also I take a lot of pride in the movement building that our community has done together and what we’ve kind of strived towards over the years. And so I think a lot of it just comes from, like an innate desire to do that. But also people are dying, and we need to do something about it. I feel urgency. And so, and I know that’s echoed in many spaces that I’m in as well. So that sense of urgency, I would say, also is a big contributing factor.
Ahona: Yeah, I guess, with that being said, another thing that we’re wondering about is, obviously, you do a lot of work with different communities. And with that being said, where do you think, or where would you say that you know from?
Koubra: You know, I really like that question. And I know I mentioned something about an innate feeling or, I guess, attraction or I don’t know, a pulling or a calling or, you know, not to use cheesy terms towards that. And I think a lot of that also stems from my roots and where I grew up. I mean, I did grow up in North Hamilton, and my parents were young when they moved to Canada back in the 90s, they were coming out of countries that–you know, my dad grew up in Sudan and back then, and to this day, right now, it’s a war torn country. My mom also grew up in Chad. She graduated- well, she didn’t finish school. She went to school up until the eighth grade, and then later on, moved to Canada with my father. And I think at that point in time, a big lesson that they tried to instill in me and my siblings was the immigrant parent thing to say, like, we came here because we wanted a better future for you and your siblings, and we want you to go to school, and we want you to focus on your studies and become a doctor, or a lawyer, X Y Z or whatever the immigrant parents say, but I think in a lot of that, were also embedded lessons around who you are, what you represent. What is your language? What is the language of your people? What is your culture? What’s the culture of your people? What is important to continue to hold on to, and what is also important to be proud of, right?
Specifically in my context, I come from an ethnic group called the Zaghawa ethnic group, and our ethnic group is located in the eastern region of Chad and the Western region of Sudan, more specifically in Darfur. And that is, I would say, kind of a precursor. It gives you a good idea of where I know from in the context of being from an ethnic group that is so heavily, especially in the context right now in Sudan persecuted for speaking our language for being more quote-unquote African, because we didn’t assimilate with the rest of the country that is heavily Arabized. And so since the 90s, in the early 2000s, there’s been so many attempts at extinguishing the fire that is my people, and so many attempts at trying to just erase us off the map and I think back in I’m trying to even, and I have memories of this kind of subconscious in a way because I think I was so young back then and I wasn’t able to really understand. But there were movements built out of the fact that people were being killed and specifically, my ethnic group, and the other two major non-Arab groups in Darfur which are the Fur and the Masalit groups, they started to fight back, right? And resistance was an innate response. Resistance was the immediate response. And I’ve had uncles that have died in resistance fighting. I have aunts, and you know what I mean? Relatives in the community who died trying to defend their people and defend their language and defend their culture and defend where they’re from. And I think a lot of what I know from, like I said, I think in a way, it’s a bit innate. And it’s kind of, like that fire coming back, right? And obviously, the context is not necessarily the same. I mean, granted, like I said, a lot is currently also happening in Sudan. But I think regardless of the context, it’s that desire to fight back and to resist against colonial ideals, against imperialism, against persecution, and against injustice in general. I think when your people have experienced it for so long, it becomes a little bit like second nature.
Kojo: This might be a personal question. You can say no.
Koubra: Never too personal.
Kojo: Do you speak the language?
Koubra: I do. I do. Yes.
Kojo: Can you say something in your language?
Koubra: Say something, like maybe “hi?”
Kojo: Anything. Yeah. Anything.
Koubra: Okay, well, a lot of our greetings, especially since we’re more so non-Arabized, but still, you know, the Islamic influence, there’s still a lot of, I would say, Arabic loan words, Arabic loan greetings. But if I want to say like, “Hi, how are you folks doing? Are you doing good?” I would say something like: “salam alaykum, noray aïbi? awja tibo da? awja joh giyo — taybeen.” So that’s like saying, “how are you doing?” Like, “awja tibo da?” means “you guys don’t have any qualms? There’s no beef?” And then “awja joh” just means “no problems here. I’m just chilling.”
Kojo: It’s funny because I think language is one of the things that is used to sanitize Black or people of African descent, right? Because even the intonation speaks to a welcoming greeting. And a way of thinking about the world. “Everything’s okay, cool?” “Nothing. No beef, no.” “Okay. We’re all good. I come in peace.” Yeah. So I think we don’t usually hear our languages here outside of maybe your home. Or if you meet other folks that are from your country, right? So it can be a way that also reduces sometimes where you know from and how you interact with folks.
It reminds me of Sabreina, when we were talking with you, you talked about your connections to Egypt. Right? And now we have Koubra talking about Chad and Sudan. Let me jump in. So what do you think is the impact of these colonial creations that now we all have to contend with. You, from Egypt. You, from Chad and Sudan. I’m from Ghana.
Koubra: No, that’s a good question. I think, at least, especially in the context of the conversation around what it means to be Zaghawa in Chad and also in Sudan. And I think there’s also a big difference between being Zaghawa and Chad and being Zaghawa in Sudan. And I think the reason I say this, and I just wanted to mention this briefly was because in Chad, there’s actually quite a big Zaghawa, people have quite a big political influence. Even the president right now, like his father, who was the last president of Chad, was a Zaghawa man, so he’s also from our ethnic group and a lot of the generals and the people in government. Like a lot of the people making really bad decisions right now. I don’t know if I should say that on–you know, they don’t understand English, it’s fine. A lot of them are Zaghawa, right? But there’s a stark difference. And even though there’s, I would say, still an energy in Chad around–honestly, again, I’m not sure if I should say this here. But like, rightfully so. When the president and people in the government, just like when it’s chaos, and there’s a group to scapegoat there, you know what I mean? In the broader community Zaghawa people are a minority in Chad, a very small minority, and they kind of dominate a lot of the political sphere. And so there is some, I would say, tensions. And those tensions, I think stem at the end of the day, they stem from colonialism, right? And the stem from this idea of us-versus-them, and people specifically wanting to dominate different areas of governance or different areas of capital and that type of thing and people using what we learned about, again, us-versus-them in the context of colonialism to justify that. And I think there’s a big difference between the context in Sudan where that’s not the case. Zaghawas don’t politically dominate Sudan at all. And the reason people have qualms and are literally killing Zaghawa people. It’s been genocide for almost two decades now. And the reason for that is, again, this lack of assimilation, this desire to preserve language, this desire to preserve culture and being quote-unquote ‘more African–’Like I said, it sounds silly because Sudan is literally an African country–than the rest of the country. And I think again, that stems from a different side of the coin of colonialism. And that in this case, we’re more talking about how do we sanitize, as you mentioned earlier? How do we turn everybody into what we believe to be an ideal associated with status, associated with language or capital? And in this context, it’s like, you are no good. Like, honestly, it’s just like an exacerbated and more hypocritical form of anti-Black racism. Again, in the context of a Black country, like Sudan literally means “the land of the Blacks” in Arabic. And I’m like, how is this adding up that we are too Black for Sudan or for these groups who are seeking to get rid of us. And I think there is so much to say about how colonialism has forced us to kind of be in survival mode all the time, whether it be back home or over here, and trying to kind of navigate situations where you see so many parallels between the way in which Indigenous folks who want to preserve Indigenous culture and an Indigenous language back home, like how that is being treated and how they’re being killed for doing so. And then you make parallels between that and Indigeneity here in so-called Canada. And I think it’s very scary and absurd, how it just looks like itself. And I think that’s by design. Sabreina, do you have anything to add to that?
Sabreina: I think this is an interesting question. I think a lot about how when we talk about the impacts of colonialism. I think sometimes it’s hard to talk about how sometimes it also comes from inside your own place, like, like where you came from. I was thinking back to my trip to Egypt. I’ve been to Egypt twice in my life, once when I was in grade four, so I don’t remember that one as much. But the last time I went was summer of 2022, 2023, I think, was my most recent trip as an adult. And I remember sort of having conversations with my mom about what I wanted to wear at the airport, because I just wanted to be comfortable. There’s this thing you can wear when you go to the Mosque it’s called “abaya.” It’s like a black, long garment, and I wanted to wear that, and she told me not to. And I was thinking a lot about how there are places in Egypt today, where if you are visibly Muslim, if you wear the hijab, there are restaurants, there are resorts, there are places you actually can’t go into if you wear the hijab. You’re actually forbidden from those places. There are videos of people of Muslim women being kicked out of those places. We were- one day, we went to, what they call [. . .] and it’s like a park. And at the front, there was a sign that says that if men were wearing the long garment that men wear to the mosque, they weren’t allowed into the park. And it made me think a lot about how, I think, as a visibly Muslim woman here, who often thinks about how I’m perceived and how people watch me, like, move through this earth. I didn’t think I’d have to think about that when I went back home. At all, and I think that was one of the the biggest culture shocks for me is thinking about how the increasing, I think westernization of I think our countries, how it impacts us when we go back. And I think in most general public spaces, it wasn’t felt because I think a lot of people still wear hijab. A lot of people still practice Islam, but in particular aspects of the country. And specifically, like, I think, is actually rooted in like a class, in class, places that are, where you see more wealth, places where you see more people who are rich. Those are the places that you are not allowed in like if you appear to be practicing or if you are visibly Muslim. And I think all of this comes from orientalism and how I think the West essentializes the Middle East. And I know Egypt is not part of the Middle East, but orientalism also captures how people in North Africa are spoken about. But, I think that growing up here, when I think about the implications of colonialism and orientalism, was always seen as the exception, not the rule of what our people are. I’m the exception because I spoke the language because I dressed a particular way because I moved in a certain way, whereas most sort of like pop culture, Hollywood industry, the textbooks we read captured our people in a very particular way that was racist that essentialized our people as being backwards or barbaric. So I think when Koubra was talking about this, it made me think about how it’s everywhere. You can’t really escape it, even when you go back to a place where you think you’re going to escape it because you’re around your own people, people who speak the same language, people who look the same.
Actually, one other thing I think about often, And I often laugh about it, but I don’t think it’s actually that funny. You got to hear this. There are places in Egypt. And again, I think this this goes back to class. There’s a particular resort that was really popular that one summer, and we obviously didn’t go. It’s a particular part on the North Coast of Egypt. And it was literally just like the 1% could access it. Like the cost of a bottle of water or a cup of tea. And because of the conversion rates, it’s hard to articulate it. It was ridiculous. And people there, so falafel, it’s a very- it’s like a staple in a lot of, I would say, Middle Eastern and North African dishes. It’s made sometimes with chickpeas or fava beans, and it’s fried. It’s deep fried. You can eat it with breakfast or for dinner.
Koubra: That in Sudan, it’s called “tamiya.”
Sabreina: Tamiya. Yes. We also call it tamiya. Some Egyptians call it tamiya. And in those particular areas, at that particular resort, they refuse to call it “falafel.” They call it a “green burger.” I’m seeing Kojo make some facial reactions. And I think about that a lot. The desire to distance yourself from your language and from your culture and from a staple food in an attempt to further to increase your proximity to whiteness and the Western world is one of the things I think I think about most from that trip is hearing people talk about a “green burger” as opposed to falafel.
Kojo: How much was it?
Sabreina: I honestly don’t know, but when I think about the conversion rates, you’re probably paying, like, 40 bucks for, like, a bottle of water. It’s ridiculous.
Kojo: Yikes. Yeah. So yeah, you can’t escape it. Whether you are here, whether you are there, you can’t escape it. So speaking of escaping…
Cassandra: Well, considering all your past experiences, we’re all really interested to hear: what does working towards abolition mean to you? And how does harm reduction fit into this framework? And I know Sabreina you did answer this question in your earlier podcast, but if you have any thoughts too, by all means, we’d love to hear it.
Koubra: That’s a good question. Honestly, a big question. Maybe it’s not that big of a question in the sense that the answer is simple and complicated at the same time. And the reason I say this is because I think the answer itself, as a verbal response is pretty simple. You know, what abolition means to me is freedom. What abolition means to me is liberation. What abolition means to me is justice. And I think that’s three words to describe abolition. But what does that actually mean in practice, and also in the context of harm reduction? And that, I think, is a lot more complicated. And the reason I say this is because, unfortunately, reality means that we are living in a policed state. And I say “police,” and I mean, yes, police as, like, the police. But I mean, just also generally speaking, surveillance and policing in a more broad context, not necessarily tied to like a policing institution. But more so tied to the institution and to the state as in a more general sense, and to dismantle that, what would that look like, right? And what does that look like in our lifetime? What does that look like? And how do we work towards it? I think becomes a very complicated question because the foundations, they so intentionally built them, right? Their foundations. They so intentionally made them strong and have armed themselves, literally and figuratively, armed themselves with ways to destroy resistance. And I mean that, again, literally and figuratively. And by destroy resistance, I mean, yes, in a physical sense, with arms and the military industrial complex or whatever. But I also mean it in a sense of a spiritual and emotional and psychological sense. And I think that the state works in such a way that it’s so easy to get demoralized over the conditions that we are living in or that we are seeing in our communities and despite efforts and, like, trying to work towards abolition and seeing so many great fighters. You know, anybody. Like Assata Shakur. And even- actually, let me not even go into the US right now, but like even just in our context, seeing so many people be so heavily targeted by the state and by police in their fights towards abolition, towards justice. It gets very demoralizing, and they work in a way to break the spirits of the people.
Actually, let me go back to the United States. I’m not going to go into the election and talk about the specifics of the election because I don’t think that makes any sense for this context. However, the reason I kind of want to touch on that is just because I think how many of us, and by us, I mean members of the Black community and members of racialized communities and folks living in low income communities. Like, how many people have swayed towards the right, because of the conditions that people are living in today and false promises and things that are said by people who want nothing but the worst for us actually. You know, how many people have been swayed to vote in that direction or to think with that thought process, because of the fact that the state has worked so hard to demoralize people. Yeah, it seems almost impossible. And it’s weird because I think that there’s so much, I don’t know, in fighting, I guess that’s going on right now. And it makes it very, very hard for people to talk about abolition in tangible terms and looking towards a future where we are fighting towards the liberation of everybody. And I think that it’s very shameful, obviously, you know, one thing. But at the same time, it goes to show how I don’t know how deep the impact of the grip that the state has on folks looks and how they love to exploit people in their most vulnerable times, in their most difficult times, and just make things worse. And it’s caused so much tension that we need to address within the community, as a community, because at this point, we’re fighting the state, of course. And we’re fighting white supremacy and alt-right groups and things like that, but at the same time, right now, we’re kind of caught up fighting each other within the community because there’s so much. Like I said, it’s hard to even point fingers or say, ‘why would this person do this,’ or ‘why would they vote in this direction’ or ‘why would they start to say these things?’ But it’s like I said, the state works in such a way that people are forced to have some sliver of hope and a potential false promise that they get swayed.
Kojo: So, let’s expand on Cassandra’s question. Maybe because you’ve opened the door. Let’s break it open and enter. Let’s talk about it from a Canadian context. ‘Cause next year, let’s forget Trump and the USA. Let’s look at Canada.
Koubra: Yeah, right? Yeah, same.
Kojo: Next year, there’s going to be an election.
Koubra: It’s the exact same.
Kojo: So what would you tell Black Canadians or generally speaking, other Canadians about, what can we learn from abolition, when we’re potentially facing an election where according to the polls, the guy that’s in the lead…
Koubra: Mr. PP.
Kojo: …has been in office since he was 24. He got his pension at 31. And now, he’s saying that other people don’t want an election because they want a pension. So, I think that’s the contrast that you are explaining, right? Some guy that has never worked. He’s never broken his palms. Right? Gets elected and has been there since. So how would you explain, the liberation, abolition as we face a federal election here.
Koubra: The first thing I want to tell everyone: it’s a trap. It’s literally a trap. They are tricking us all. And by us, I mean, y’all, ’cause I’m not tricked. Hahah. No, but it’s a trap. And I think again, the same principle or the same idea of exploiting people in their most vulnerable states. People can’t afford food. People can’t afford shelter. Like, they can’t be under roofs. There is so much being said or promises being made or ideas being thrown at about, like, who’s causing this? What’s the reason? What can we do to solve this? You know what I mean? And I’m like, at the end of the day, you could solve it. I think there’s also this weird thing that politicians love to do around talking about things as though they’re nebulous or as though there’s no form of resolution. And I want people to sit with the fact that it is a trap. And again, in the context of people who have said or who have stood publicly and privately–you know, forget the private–literally, publicly are speaking down on your people, speaking down on your neighbors, and talking about ways that they can make things better. Clearly, they don’t care. Like if they feel so comfortable, making such statements and being complicit in all of this, being complicit in people sleeping outside in the cold, doing nothing about it, being complicit in people not being able to afford food for themselves or for their family, and being complicit in literal genocides across the ocean. They have no care, and honestly are speaking about it in such a frank and, honestly, kind of maddening way. I can’t even listen to these people talk most of the time because if I do, I am going to go mad right now. To preserve my own sanity, I just can’t do it. But at the same time, sometimes I hear snippets here and there and I’m like, ‘these people don’t value human life at all.’ And the idea that that they are so permissive in terms of, for example, what’s going on in Gaza right now, how do you then assume–again, if I’m using us or our community members here as an example–how can you then assume that they value our lives here enough to do anything about the conditions that we are living in? If they can literally look at what’s going on and not even just turn an eye, but also, condone it, allow it, and speak about it so shamelessly, permit it so shamelessly, provide resources for it so shamelessly. Again, it’s a trap. And I think it’s really important, again, maybe bringing in the topic of harm reduction for us to consider ways that we as a community can work together to brainstorm, to problem solve, even if it’s not big. And granted, I think we’re in an era or a period of time where people are tired, and some people are getting energized, and I’m not going to make any claims or say anything about any revolutions. But my point is, even if we aren’t talking about something like that, let’s have conversations. People are dying. And that’s the point. You know what I mean? Yeah, it’s hard to talk about it. Again, it’s a trap. Let’s think about the long term. And it’s unfortunate because I can’t even say or promise that voting in any specific direction will lead to anything better or different. So at the end of the day, I actually have nothing to tell people in that. Whatever, there’s three major parties here, the liberals, the conservatives, the NDP, vote any way you like. They all have had the same conversations. They’ve all harbored the same type of people, the same type of rhetoric. It’s a dire situation, I would say. I don’t like electoral politics at all, and specifically for this reason. It’s hard to give an answer because what do you do when you need to afford food? But nobody cares about you aside from your community members. That’s why you fight things. You just try to do your best with those in your community and learn from what you think would be the best, but at the same time, we can’t necessarily even point fingers at this point, because it’s like, I don’t know, I don’t want to sound like a pessimist, but what the heck is going on? Any thoughts?
Kojo: Sabreina, I mean, you are… you are–you are an elected…
Koubra: I looked at the elector.
Kojo: Well maybe let’s not go there.
Koubra: Not the same. It’s not the same.
Kojo: But like I’m looking at our notes here, and it says in the face of ongoing crisis, we have culture wars. We have very divisive language. Things seem to be reactive, because that’s the only thing people can do. We can talk about, you know, in Hamilton right now, 40 spaces on contaminated land to put people. And it’s like you would think that we haven’t learned that you can’t put anybody on contaminated land. It doesn’t matter if you are putting them there for two hours, three hours, one month, one year. But then we are still doing it. So how do we organize under these treacherous conditions with the meager resources that are available to all of us?
Sabreina: I think this is an important question to talk about. I think first and foremost, we have to reckon with the fact that people in positions of power, people in government, people in these institutions actually don’t see some people as human. Like, the fact that you are okay to put unhoused people, people dealing with acute mental illness, people who are using substances, using drugs. The fact that it is okay to put somebody on contaminated land because you don’t see them as valuable, I think tells us everything we need to know about how far these systems will go to keep us marginalized, to keep us oppressed, and to literally kill us. And the fact that more alarm bells aren’t going off, and the fact that this is normalized, I worry about how the worse the material conditions get for people, because of austerity, because of neoliberalism, because of capitalism, the more as a community, we become normalized and adjusted to violent circumstances and accept them. And it is terrifying to think about how far the state will go. We are having conversations right now about the fact that the state is going to legislate medical assistance in dying for people whose circumstances could be solved if they were lifted out of poverty, right? The fact that we are having that conversation in this country, and we are still sort of committed to and obsessed with this electoral system that is never going to free us.
Koubra: Yeah, it’s not going to save us.
Sabreina: That never was intended to free us. I think I talked about this in the first podcast. I think when I hear parents talk about particularly the ongoing censorship of students in schools who want to talk about Palestine and how a lot of people who I think, honestly, have a conscious, understand that there’s a genocide can see what is happening, are shocked at how education institutions are responding to students who want to talk about it and the fact that an education institution is not supporting a conversation on a genocide. And I keep reminding people the very first superintendent of schools in Ontario of public education was Egerton Ryerson, who believed in segregating schools. He did not believe that Indigenous kids and white kids should be in the same classroom space, you know? Education and all of these institutions. There’s all this rhetoric coming from the ministry’s level right now about keeping politics out of the classroom. In the context of wanting to talk about Gaza and what’s happening in Palestine, while the same ministry is giving over $500,000 to groups like CIJA, to groups like B’nai B’rith, to groups like Yad Vashem. CIJA is one of the largest lobby groups in this country. I heard Rabbi David Mivasair talking about how they are a bigger lobby group than oil lobby groups in this country. Like, the impact that that has on the education of students in schools. And so when I think about how we organize in these conditions, what I keep coming back to is one: to continue to expose contradictions of these institutions. But also, two: to empower our communities with the tools and resources to support themselves, to advocate for themselves, because people’s rights continue to be trampled on because oftentimes we don’t know what our rights are. We don’t know how to navigate these institutions. On purpose, it’s by design that these institutions are so bureaucratic and hard to navigate, particularly for immigrants, for newcomers, for folks who don’t speak the language. And so what I have fallen back on, and there’s probably other suggestions, and I don’t necessarily know how well this is going to work ten years from now, but is to empower our communities with the language and the tools and the resources to keep resisting, to keep advocating, even if it’s just for survival. I’m curious to hear what you think.
Koubra: I think what I said is very similar to what you just said, and I agree with you 100%. I think it’s also just again, when we’re talking about electoral politics, knowing that the system was built this way. Like you said, it’s by design. And I think it’s tough because when you are trying to have these conversations with someone, and rightfully so, who is looking for very specific answers, because of the conditions that they are living in and because of the circumstances they are in. It’s hard to talk about it, because what do you actually give as an answer? When my auntie asks me, “Hey, Koubra, who should I vote for?” And I’m like, “uuhh…” You know what I mean? I’m like, okay, am I gonna start talking about the revolution right now? You know what I mean? And I think that it’s hard. It’s very difficult because I also think that conversations around the bigger picture, again, the revolution. Conversations around resistance and fighting back in some aspects, and I think not even not historically. I think we’ve turned it. And by we, I just mean the community or people who have this language right now have turned it into something more theoretical than practical. And I think historically, again, turning back to or going back to the example that I gave earlier about relatives who were resisting against genocide, resisting against Arabization of Zaghawa people. Like, that was not theoretical. That they were about the business, you know what I mean? And like nothing was nebulous. Nothing was based on things that people read in a thousand textbooks. But I think now it’s unfortunate that when we want to have the conversation about the bigger picture, it’s important for us to be mindful about the way that we do that, especially within our communities, especially when, I mentioned earlier, my mom finished school in grade eight. A lot of these things are based for me, at least, on things that I’ve read, based on conversations that I’ve had in educational or like this context, for example. And I think sometimes we lose sight of the fact that, the way that we talk about these things, more in nebulous terms, more like, “hey, like, if you think about it in this way,” type of terms, it in a way even stems from more of an elitist perspective. And I think a lot of it now is based on things we’ve learned in an educational or institutional context or conversations that require very specific, very nebulous language that is not accessible to the auntie that I gave as an example three seconds ago. I’m not going to pull out the same terminology or the same language that I’m using right now in the context of that conversation because I know that it just does not make sense. And also, because people are trying to survive and they need an answer, and they need a very specific one. I think, at the end of the day, it’s important for us to bring our communities together, have these conversations, talk about what the system was built upon and where we are headed towards, and brainstorm together in a way that we are learning both from our elders, and they are also learning from us. Everybody’s providing teachings. To talk about what a brighter future could look like, and how do we get towards that? Again, I don’t have the specific answer, and I think the community needs to come together for that to happen, or for us to get more specific answers. But it’s also important for us to just recognize and reconcile with the fact that there are some people that need or who are looking for very specific answers right now. And their answers are not based on all of this historical context that I was able to read about, because I grew up going to school, I have a university degree, this, that, and the other. And I know where to access this context and this information. So how do we have these conversations like actual community members, and not like people who are coming with all of this baggage of, like, “Hey, like, believe me when I say XYZ.” Like, no? Let’s be more specific.
Kojo: So on that- on that, Cassandra, Ahona, like, on this topic, what are you thinking about?
Ahona: With respect to..?
Kojo: The discussion around abolition, the discussion around organizing your community, the discussion of using different language to do the survival work, the resistance work, the challenging the state. Like, where as students, current students. What are some of the things that you are thinking about or the things that you have conversations with your peers?
Ahona: I mean, I think within that specific context, I guess it’s maybe a little bit off topic, but we’ve talked a lot about language and the importance of language. And I think it’s interesting to think about the fact that, like, we’re talking about community building, we’re talking about coalition building. But like even our language is not accessible to the people around us who need our support the most, and I think that that’s, like, a really important context to consider because, like how are we going to talk to people who are impacted the most by these systems in a language that doesn’t appeal to them or that is elitist in a lot of ways, too. And I think even in Koubra’s context, we talk a lot about how Koubra speaks five languages. Very cool. And we’re always like, “Wow, Koubra has like five brains.” And like, that is the truth.
Kojo: So what is that? What is it? English, French…
Koubra: Zaghawa, Arabic, Spanish. Yes.
Ahona: She taught herself Spanish. So there you go.
Kojo: Entiendo español?
Koubra: Si, si.
Kojo: Sheeeeeesh!
Ahona: Yeah. I think about that specific context, and while it’s, first of all, a very cool thing, I think the other side of that is I’ve been in situations where I’ve seen Koubra speak to people in these different languages that otherwise would not have the support that they need in community, right? And so when she’s talking about the importance of her preserving language and preserving that cultural identity in community, I think that also speaks to the way that we can support people locally as well, right? Like, language is so important, in a very tangible sense. In the same way that it’s important, even when we speak the colonial language when we speak English, what does it mean to speak it in an accessible way? And I feel like that is important, like in the global context, but also in the local context as well.
Cassandra: I think discussions of language and how we speak about people is also really important. I know earlier you brought up unhoused people, and I think even just what we call unhoused people makes a difference, because I know there are debates about whether they should be called unhoused or homeless. And I think there is definitely a very large difference between those two terms, right? Because one suggests that they don’t have any emotional or psychological home to go back to, and the other suggests that they don’t have a physical house to live in. I do have the opportunity to speak to a lot of unhoused people, and one of the biggest issues that they talk about in Hamilton specifically is the fact that when people see them, the first people that they will call is the police. And all the police do is move them from one place to another place. So they get physically displaced from their home. Even though their houses aren’t necessarily there, that’s where their home was. And I think that even just the act of calling the police instead of a grassroots organization or a healthcare worker or somebody who can house them is also dehumanizing because it means that the person who is seeing them, who is calling the police, doesn’t think of their humanity or their needs. They’re thinking, “I don’t care that you are unhoused; I just care that I had to see that you’re unhoused. I don’t want you near me, get away from me.” I think that is also very dehumanizing. And it also goes to show how discussions of abolition are so difficult to have, because not everyone’s on the same page. How do you convince somebody that the discussion we should be having is, “how do we help these people?” and not “do these people even matter in the first place?” So I really appreciate that discussion that you had earlier.
Koubra: Yeah, it’s important to talk about in the context of our neighborhoods. You know, this is happening in neighborhoods across Hamilton. And as I mentioned earlier, I grew up in North Hamilton, and I still live in the north a little bit more on the east side, but I used to live around Bayfront actually in those townhouses that have been boarded up for the last ten years.
Kojo: Jamesville.
Koubra: Yeah, Jamesville. That’s where I spent some of my childhood years. And ever since I’ve been living still in North Hamilton. And the neighborhoods that I grew up in, they were low income, like poor. I still live in North Hamilton. And, again, I think a lot of people in that neighborhood or in the neighborhood, especially while I was growing up, because I think right now, North Hamilton is in this weird stage of rich people moving in and trying to live near Bayfront Park, and it’s a little bit odd. But in the context of poor folks who were living in these neighborhoods, calling the cops on folks who have pitched a tent in their neighborhood, it’s weird to me because I’m like, “listen, buddy, like, we’re all trying to survive, and you know that too.” You know what I mean? Like, you know that too.
Kojo: You miss your paycheck next week, you might be there too.
Koubra: Exactly. Exactly. And I think that again, this goes back to what the state teaches us around, what you need to do to get out of this situation that you’re in. What do you need to do to get out of this low income neighborhood that you live in? Make it look less low income. Get rid of everything that makes it look in a certain way. And like I said, Bayfront, North Hamilton, that area looks different now than it did back then. And a lot of this, again, is by design and pitting folks against each other in the context of language. And I think, interestingly, the great example that you gave around using, unhoused or homeless, sometimes–and this might be a controversial take–sometimes most of these terms don’t actually matter in that, like, people. And I know, that might sound a bit funny when I first say it, but the reason I wanted to bring that up is because sometimes, again, when tying it back to what I was saying earlier around language that we use, trying to learn the context and the history behind certain things and why we say things in a certain way. A lot of that foundation comes from our learning and our reading. But people, when you’re in that context, when you are unhoused, for example, it does not matter to you whether you are referred to as homeless or unhoused. And I’ve had that conversation. Because, honestly, I also realized, where am I learning to call unhoused folks “unhoused folks?” Where did I pick up that language? You know what I mean? And it was not from them. And like you said earlier, those are my neighbors, too. Like, we have chats. We do whatever we got to do, and I’m like, I’ve never heard any of them calling each other unhoused to me, right? And I’m like, so, why do I use that term? And so I think it’s really important for us to also, on one side of the coin, consider the context in which we are referring to people. And how do we give people the most dignified descriptors, and how do we talk about people in the most dignified and humanizing way? But also, let’s not get distracted, right? Let’s not get distracted by things that people in that situation or in that scenario are not particularly concerned about right now. What are they particularly concerned about right now? And I think answering that question is potentially more important. And so I think language is a very weird thing. There’s a fine line. It’s always important to consider the ways in which we talk about people for sure, 100%. And I think, especially when we’re doing it from a place of care, from a place of humanity and dignity. But let’s amongst each other, you know what I mean? Like, what is the most important piece? What do people care about? What do people not care about? How do we actually support people in their survival and what they really want? Does he come out of it? And I think that’s where we go bare bones with the language stuff. As you mentioned, Ahona, in a way that promotes understanding, but also in an anti-ableist perspective, how do we use it most accessible to everybody? I think that’s a larger conversation. I’m not saying one or the other or one is better or one is worse, et cetera. Just things that I’ve thought of over the years.
Ahona: We have our final question here, unfortunately. But I think you’ve touched on a lot of this so far already. But we just wanted to ask what cross movement solidarity looks like to you, in the context of coalition building. And then, specifically for the context of this project, when we’re thinking about Black epistemologies and interlocking solidarities, how does global solidarity tie in with the local, which I think you’ve talked about a lot, even in the context of yourself and the revolution literally, being in your blood and that sort of context as well. But yeah, cross movement solidarity, coalition building, and then global solidarity with the local.
Koubra: I think a lot of the ideas we touched on them in that we are living in a situation where people are forced to only really care about the individual. The way that this system is set up, just because of capitalism, just because of the fact that people are just trying to survive, it gets very difficult for people to look outside of the immediate context that they live in. But I think cross movement solidarity, I think global solidarity is what’s actually going to save us in that we need everything that we can get, and we need the ripple effect. And we know that certain people need to be liberated in order for others to follow suit. And I think, again, in the context of how colonialism was built and how these countries have designed their systems, cross movement solidarity is supposed to have a domino effect. And I also think that it’s important for us to think about. And I don’t want to use the term. We talk a lot about–and by we, I mean the general public has started to talk a lot more about the term ‘intersectionality.’ And I think in a weird way now that’s still kind of relevant in the context of this conversation on cross movement solidarity. It’s like we aren’t liberating a figment of a perceived neutral, specific individual. The goal isn’t, “Oh, yeah, Koubra.” I mean, granted, there’s intersectionalities in Koubra’s context. But I mean we aren’t talking about anything in a very black and white, we are going to start here and end here, A-B-C-D type of way. It’s like, ‘Okay, how are we doing this all at the same time?’ Because A being liberated depends on Z being liberated, right? So that’s one thing. Another thing in terms of that conversation is, as I mentioned, people are forced to be focused on the individual right now, because people are just trying to survive. But how do we also learn from movements that are happening across the globe? How do we learn from resistance across the globe? How do we learn from freedom fighters in, for example, Palestine? And how do we take the lessons to then apply them here or take the lessons and apply them in context that they can be applied in. And there is a tendency, I would say, especially by people in positions in government or whatever, to try to distance people as much as possible and to look at everybody as though or to try to describe the us-versus-them thing again, like being like these are barbaric people from the outside da-da-da. And trying to make it seem like there’s no parallels that can be drawn between an X population and a Y population. But there are so often–especially in the context of oppressed people all the time–there are parallels that can be drawn. And I think it’s important for us to learn from each other and how we can build solidarity, how we can build the movement, how we can build resistance, take lessons from folks who’ve done it before, and who are doing it again and who continue to do it. And we need that cross movement solidarity for our energy as well. And in the interim, while we are doing harm reduction as an interim principle, until we reach freedom and liberation, in the interim, how do we have the energy to do that? You know, some of that harm reduction work? How do we have the energy to bring people together and try to provide the most basic of resources? It is by looking, yes, within and looking outside and getting hope from what we are seeing and getting hope from the waves that are being felt across the globe, when people are very specifically concerned about one, even, the context of right now, the postal workers who are striking. Looking into the postal worker union in Palestine, talking about that. And it’s like, wow, you’re literally thinking about how there is a ripple effect. And that is energizing, right? And I think having that perspective and thinking about things in a way that, yes, the immediate, right now, fighting. It’s tough. It’s grunt work. But what are we working towards? And how can we do that in a way that we are energizing each other through the process and also energizing people outside and all over to also join that resistance and during the revolution, join the movement.
Kojo: I wanted to ask you this question, and then maybe we’ll leave it to final thoughts from everybody. And I’ve been thinking about this. This intersectionality. Maybe I’m gonna get into trouble. What do you think is a drawback of that term? ‘Cause I feel like everybody says it, but it’s just said to be said.
Koubra: I think intersectionality is the new white feminism on the block. Literally. And that’s the reason why I have beef with that term. And like I said, I don’t want to get in trouble. And I’m talking about things in a funny way, but at the same time, not necessarily. And the reason I say that is because people tend to have this understanding that it’s trying to be pushed into the mainstream as, like, ‘intersectionality.’ What does that even mean right now? You know what I mean? And also, how does that play out in a real context? I think even in the context of intersectionality, the difficult piece of that is you’re talking about–especially in the context of individuals–if you were talking about yourself as an individual having intersectional identities, like, yes all of those identities play into who you are. All of those identities play into the way that you perceive the world and the way that the world perceives you. However, I think, in a way that is also looking at things as separate and trying to superimpose them, if that makes sense. It isn’t as simple as that, in my opinion. And I think that there is so much more depth in us as individuals. And as members of the community, there’s so much more depth in us that can’t be described by simply saying that, I have this experience because I am X, Y, and Z put together. Like that isn’t representative of your reality. And I also think that people have turned “intersectionality,” quote-unquote, into some sort of trying to find some sort of oppression competition in a way, like Oppression Olympics. Haha, I don’t want to use that term because I think it’s a silly term. But people are like, “Okay, well, what can I pull out of my perceived or my felt identity that will give enough cause for me to be the one to talk about why this was wrong” or whatever it may be. And I think people are talking about intersectionality and they’re bringing up things like how race, of course, is part of that. People are talking about religion, people are talking about sexuality, et cetera, et cetera. But I think, again, people are trying to use quote-unquote “intersectional identities” to trump or to kind of step into discussions on oppression and be like, “Well, I have more of a say in this context because I actually have these intersectional identities.” But I’m like, “Listen, buddy.” You know what I mean? And, again, in different contexts, it looks very different. But I’m like, bro, if a white dude– Okay, actually, let me not get into specifics. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble. Point being is. You can’t use intersectionality as enough of a scapegoat for the reasons that people feel so emboldened to say certain things and to think that they are more or less XYZ than the next person. I think it’s just become a buzzword that is trying to distract us. It has, like, a neoliberal packaging now. And I think that it doesn’t make any sense, because we’ve never–us, us historically–we’ve never looked at each other like that. I’ve never thought of being an intersectional person when I was younger, so, yeah, it’s a bit fun.
Kojo: So political science students graduate with us. That’s funny.
Sabreina: I don’t know that I have much to say on this particular topic to be honest, but what Koubra got me thinking about is I’m curious as to how, because I don’t think I think the concept of intersectionality is foreign to most of the world. I think it’s something that is a conversation that happened specifically in the West.
Koubra: It’s not my culture. It’s just not.
Sabreina: And I think about why. I think what led to people thinking that we need to be kind of identifying in these particular ways to feel then more maybe worthy or to feel more like our experiences are valid when I don’t necessarily think we need to capitulate in that way, if that makes sense? Yeah, because this is a concept that is foreign to most of the world, and it makes me think a lot about what the inherent or what the–I don’t like the word normal–but quote-unquote, “what is the normal?” And then everything outside of that then becomes another identity. And then we have to think about all of the ways that those different identities intersect to inform our experiences. But that comes because the West has created this idea of what is a quote-unquote normal person who walks across this earth.
Kojo: Whiteness. Whiteness.
Koubra: Whiteness.
Sabreina: Whiteness. Yep, whiteness. So, yeah, I mean, I’d be curious to see how people across the world kind of have conversations about their experiences and oppression and capitalism. Because sometimes our analysis here, I think is devoid of or still kind of comes back and is rooted in. I think how whiteness projects onto the world. If that makes sense?
Koubra: Exactly. Yeah, that makes a lot.
Kojo: See, that’s why I went to the political- Cassandra, thoughts? Intersectionality?
Cassandra: I think it’s really interesting the vitriol that you have towards intersectionality, because for me at least, it’s something that we’re taught a lot more recently, especially in classes. I know that it was developed by Kimberlé Crenshaw specifically to describe the experiences of Black women in labor disputes. I think in that context, it definitely served a specific need and purpose, but it was co-opted recently to serve a different agenda entirely. And I think you are right about that. People are using intersectionality to virtue signal, not necessarily knowing what it means and what it was developed for, and it just pushes an entirely different agenda. I guess my closing thoughts on this would be I appreciate your discussions on how we’re being distracted. We’re sitting here talking and dragging our feet when we should be taking action because people are dying. So these co-options and these discussions and debates that we’re having really don’t really serve any purpose that’s important in any way.
Koubra: On your point about Kimberlé Crenshaw, as I mentioned earlier, I think it’s become like the new white feminism, because who are the pioneers of this idea of feminism? Like, who was the base, right? Who were the movers, the shakers, the builders, right? And when I look at feminism, or when I was taught about feminism, again, I keep going back to my roots, and I keep going back to my country and my family and everything that I learned in that context, but, like, women were part of that story. Women were always part of the story. And in my head, I was like, “Yeah, those are the feminists.” You know what I mean? Those are the ones that I learned or think about feminism in that context, and I go to school, and I go to middle school and high school, and I’m learning more about the suffragettes, which is like, great, like, let’s vote. But at the same time, what has feminism become over the years, right? And why did we have to start talking about things like womanism to include our people? And unfortunately, I think that that’s similar, you know, the context of intersectionality that has become very similar, where people have taken something that was conceptualized by a Black woman who had very deep, very deep understanding and appreciation for like, how our identity, how we, as Black women experience the world in a very specific way, and how that has not been translated, unfortunately into the classrooms that we are currently learning from. So, thank you for bringing that up because I think that’s a really good point.
Kojo: Intersectionality.
Ahona: Yeah. Well, I feel like I don’t have a lot to add on that specific point, but I think it’s interesting like considering the context of Kimberlé Crenshaw specifically and the term being born out of the legal system. And I think that speaks to what Koubra said more so about thinking within the confines of colonialism and understanding that the legal system is a colonial system. And so, of course, this term that maybe folks might not identify with is born out of a colonial system. So I think that that context makes a lot of sense.
But I would also say, just to wrap things up. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone, and thank you to Koubra specifically. This was a really great conversation to sit in on. And I think you’ve given folks a lot to think about in terms of reimagining and dreaming more liberatory futures. But I think what’s also been beautiful is thinking about how you’ve grounded that in the past and how you’ve connected futurism with learning from our own histories back home and learning from the women and our ancestors who have been doing this work across the globe forever.
Koubra: Thank you. I’m glad to be here. I hope I didn’t make anybody more confused.
Kojo: No, no, this is what it’s for. So yes, I echo Ahona’s thanks. And thank you for sharing your knowledge with us. And I think that is it for this episode. I think we might have two more episodes. One with Terri. And then maybe and then maybe we’ll get everyone together and have, like, a big conversation. That one is going to be interesting. So yes, thank you very much. And tune into the next episode, episode, episode.