• Storying Youth Work

  My Yute- My bleeding empathy for the Black Diaspora Youth.

  Posted by Rahma on September 23, 2025 at 3:10 pm

  What does this have to do with Youth Work? You may think from the title. I was not aware myself that Youth Work is what I was doing after I completed my undergraduate studies in maybe the most colorless, depressing, uninspiring winter of my life- December 2022. It had now been 5 years since I left home and did not return… I digress. The winter was brutal, rural Ontario is brutal. Being Black in rural Ontario is having to question if you are literally invisible or human.

  
  

  As an African, I storytell by digressing,

  as the ancestors would say- “Allow, me. Let me land.”

  It was my first time ever in my life to go to a makeshift slaughterhouse for my forensic science practice exam, of course I was the only black person, do not ever call me BIPOC, but that population was not there either. The instructor quickly affirmed us that it was indeed just goat blood and horse hair in the make-shift crime scenes that we had to exam, wished us good luck and split us into groups. Before you know it we were hopping into our bunny suits in our respectful groups. My crew quickly gathered their notebooks and split themselves away from me.

  For a second- I had one of those moments in my life where I had to check with myself and confirm with myself whether this was actual reality. Did I do anything wrong? Do I smell bad? Do I look to fat in this bunny suit? Aye.

  Nonetheless, I gathered myself for another attempt to re-engage, they all -I do not want to say acted, they all ignored me, looked at me, proceeded to move further away from me while the instructor watched this all happen. I attempted at nothing- I was left alone, to do the group assignment in that smelly dark isolating slaughterhouse- emotionally, physically isolated even amongst educational peers and prospective fellow graduates at the time. The following week I received my grades for my mid term I averaged 27% having scored a 0 in my group assignment- the instructor lectured me about my incompetency in front of the entire class, that mid term, 7 weeks into my learning in Canada, I stopped attending school and failed my entire first semester altogether, unknowingly, that was my first taste of structural racism, it was prepared like a table before me by my peers and by my instructor and by the institution. I was kicked out of the Forensics Science program – we need more black people in Forensics, I am tired of this.

  I digress, after battling depression anxiety imposter syndrome and other challenges and changing my major 4 times over I landed in Sociology for the first time I reverted back into my heart. I am a ladden maddened Social Scientist that studied and was unsparingly being hit by waves of blatant oppression simply because i am African Woman / Black. This is my exhausting story. But four years later I was able to advocate for students , Black students just like me, international canadian, the hurt and the grief in my chest turned into passion and boldness to advocate. Advocate for Nneka (alias) who was randomly kicked out of her room by her landlord at 3:00 am as she randomly had family coming over and could no longer keep the lease with Nneka. or Reshawn who I found crying outside a chatime near campus because he swore four police cars had been following him this entire week and I had to explain to him why. There is Mikayla, there is Adanna, Justine, Will. Of course these are aliases, but I saw myself in them. None of us even came from the same ethnic background, or country, or religion or faith. So I layed my life down and advocated for black youth in student bodies, in dei offices, in my platform that now rests ” Black in Ontario” with Black Lives Matter Nogojiwanong, I did advocacy to empower Black Youth for two years without a job, in horrible health, in ideation of not wanting to live.

  But I cannot help it when it comes to Black Youth from everywhere you see because I see myself, your younger, your uncle, your mum.

  Why we hoard furniture. Why we keep frozen cooked meat in old ice cream containers.

  Unspoken things that have journeyed me here as a Youth Engagement Lead at YouthReX doing exactly what pain turned into purpose. Centering Black Youth.

  I have empathy, infinitely for Black Youth.

  
  

  • This discussion was modified 2 hours, 38 minutes ago by  Rahma Kiongozi.

  Rahma replied 2 hours, 42 minutes ago 1 Member · 0 Replies
• 0 Replies

Log In to Reply