Bee Quammie

For me, being a Black woman in Canada started with being a Black girl in Canada - and growing up in a small Ontario city, that was a very lonely existence. I was raised within the duality of the Canadiana my friends and neighbours displayed, and the Jamaican culture that my parents brought when they came to Canada in the 80s. When the comforts of fitting in eluded me, I chose to stand out - and when standing out felt naked and lonesome, I wished I could just fit in. Looking back, I think I was generally immersed in the day-to-day processes of my life and just chalked up much of this discomfort to normal childhood  angst. However, undeniable moments - like weekend trips to Toronto or Detroit, where I saw more people who looked, sounded, and lived like my family did - made me realize I was missing something.

The older I've gotten, the more I've realized just how much representation matters. Not seeing many Black people other than my family in my youth - Black girls and women, specifically - in media and in my every day created a void. It was filled slightly by seeing people like Master T, Nam Kiwanuka, and Jojo Chintoh on TV, but the fact that I could pretty much name visible Black Canadian media figures on one hand was telling. Teen magazines didn't feature beauty and hair tips for Black girls. The books I read in school never featured Black characters or authors. Being Black in a small, non-diverse city made me feel extremely hypervisible at times, but searching for familiarity in some of these other spaces simultaneously made me feel invisible.

What I didn't realize in my adolescence was that that void would actually create a vortex, leading me to what I believe is my life's work. Toni Morrison has a quote that says, "If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." Add that to a personal motto of mine - "Be the person you needed when you were younger" - and you'll get some of the motivations behind what I do now, namely writing and media work.

I started my blog '83 To Infinity when I realized that the blogosphere was dominated by American voices. There was so much I could relate to, but there were specific things I wanted to discuss from a Black Canadian perspective, so I bought my domain and got to work. Similarly, I started my motherhood blog The Brown Suga Mama when I couldn't find any Canadian parenting blogs written by Black moms.

Moving into freelance writing, I've written about the kinds of stories I've always wanted to read, research, or discuss. I produce and host events that bring important conversations offline to live audiences. I've been featured on television locally, provincially, nationally, and in the U.S. - and have had girls and women tell me how wonderful it is to see a natural haired Black woman on TV, discussing everything from Black History Month to global health. My newest endeavour is a book I'm writing that was inspired by my 3 year old daughter; a book that I hope fills a representation gap for her if she feels one, and a book that I wish I had when I was younger. Overall, I'm pushing for a shift in Canadian media and creating my own spaces to do so when the opportunities aren't offered my way.

I'm also adamant about making time to volunteer with different community groups and offer mentorship to the young women who are coming up behind me. I still hear from girls and women who experience some of that loneliness, isolation, and feeling like they're the only ones going through things that I've been through - or am still going through. Giving back is vital, and it fulfills me as much as I hope it does them.

Internal satisfaction is amazing, but so is hearing from others who have been impacted by my work. Whether it's another Black woman saying she's forwarded one of my blog posts to her circle of friends who can all relate, or if it's a non-Black person who saw me on TV and thanked me for giving them a different perspective on something, or if it's the way my daughter beams when we're both wearing what she calls our "big hair," it's never lost on me that representation is crucial. I've learned that my work isn't in vain, and that sometimes, my mere presence is a disruptor of the status quo.

There's much more work to do, and I'm ready to do it my way. Here's hoping that the Bee of my girlhood is proud of what she sees now.

Bee Quammie is a freelance writer who has written for publications like EBONY, The Globe and Mail, VICE, Canadian Living and more - and blogs on her two sites,'83 To Infinity and The Brown Suga Mama. She has been a featured panelist and commentator on shows like CBC's The National and TVO's The Agenda with Steve Paikin, and hosts a number of events across the GTA focusing on topics ranging from feminist film to the celebration of natural hair to diversity in media. Visit Bee's site beequammie.com to learn more about her and her work!