My Blackness and a profound sense of isolation led to my addiction

This is a First Person column by Hillary LeBlanc, who co-owns the BlackLantic podcast. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

Growing up as one of few Black people in a predominantly white community was never easy.

I was raised by my white single mom in Moncton, N.B. Until I went to university, I was one of — at most — five Black students. My Senegalese father immigrated to Canada and lives in Ontario. I visited him once a year for a week at a time. I found it hard to connect with his side of the family — or that side of myself.

Despite being loved by my family, my youth felt lonely and isolating.

This loneliness was something I wanted to remedy by any means necessary. I was bullied a lot and often felt left out. Looking back, I realize that my mom's alcoholism and mental health issues meant I often had to say no to most invites for sleepovers. Slowly, the invites stopped entirely.

At the time, I racked my brain: was it because we were on welfare? Was it because I was Black? Was it because my godmother was our Grade 8 teacher?

At my school, I soon became the loudest kid with the lowest confidence. I made Black jokes at my own expense, allowed people to say racist things and to commit microaggressions against me, because I was hopeful someone would see this as endearing and non-confrontational.

I was willing to do anything to be liked. I was so starved for attention and simply wanted someone to like me enough that I became a doormat.

When my mom fell ill with dementia in 2014, I had no idea how to cope. Though my family tried to help, no one could fully grasp how traumatizing it was to lose someone who had unfortunately and inadvertently isolated me from the rest of the world. At the time, I was in my third year of university. I had a hard time connecting with friends.

What seemed to be missing the most was a significant other or a partner. In that quest, I started going to bars.

Partly because of my mom's alcoholism and partly because of my own trauma, I quickly became an alcoholic myself. I felt that the people at the bars were my friends and that I needed to continue to drink and be in that atmosphere to hold onto their friendship — even though I no longer liked myself or who I was.

A change of location, a change of direction

In an attempt to get sober and leave an abusive quasi-relationship, I moved to Toronto and pursued a second degree.

I hoped I would stay sober in Toronto, but I did not. When my roommates broke our lease, I called my father for financial help. He refused to send money. Instead, he asked that I move in with him and finally get the help I needed while also allowing him to finally step up as a dad.

I reluctantly said yes. Looking back, I now know that the decision was the best thing for me to do.

Moving into his home allowed me to finally connect with my Blackness. I learned about my Senegalese roots through storytelling, learning to cook Senegalese dishes, listening to Afro-Beats and getting to know my family better.

I also have a strong relationship with my mother; we talk every day, and I consider her a close friend.

I never wanted to be an addict. I don't even like the taste of alcohol.

Through this self-discovery, and by going to therapy, I was able to get sober. My period in heavy addiction lasted four years. In 2019, I finally started recovery.

Looking back, I can see my addictive behaviour was a continuation of how I saw myself in school.

I was drinking to be liked. I wanted to have a sense of community, to feel included, and to numb myself from everything around me.

I never wanted to be an addict. I don't even like the taste of alcohol.

It makes me wonder. Had there been more Black people in Moncton, had I not been intimidated by my poor French language skills in Canada's only bilingual province, had my mom allowed me more freedoms, would I have ever become an addict?

I'll never know.

However, I am happy I was finally able to love myself for who I am — race included.

For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of.

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