Experiences of a Black Child
Growing up as a Black female in a predominately Black neighbourhood, I had to witness a lot of Black males in the community and in my family get put behind bars. I have been in cars where my Black father had been pulled over for no reason. I had to watch him get harassed by White police officers. I went to a school called C.W. Jefferys Collegiate Institute where the police would casually roam the hallways as if they were students themselves. They never made the Black youth feel safe, just scared. I have walked down the streets of the Jane and Finch community with my Black male friends and had police officers approach us because they “fit a description of a young male who had just committed a crime”. They would taunt my brothers with questions about their whereabouts. I had my home raided by a bunch of White male cops with loaded guns pointed to my head along with my nieces because they were searching for illegal weapons and crack. They found an ounce of weed and had to release my mother. When my Black niece who is now 10 years of age asked me about the day our home got raided and why, I had to explain to her that the system and the White man hate our people and will do anything in their power to criminalize us for trying to survive. She broke down in tears. According to Jay Z, “police issue possession citations in Black and Latino neighbourhoods at a far higher rate than other neighbourhoods” (Alliance, 2016). This has been my reality growing up as a Black female in the Jane and Finch community and I know I am not the only one. It is hard to make it out of a community that is built to tear you down. It is hard to break the curse of generational poverty when the odds of the world are against you. My people are targeted because we have darker skin than our peers.











