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In "The Blacker The Berry" Kendrick showcases a deep and profound processing of emotion. The narrative he explains is not linear, nor is it resolved, it is an expression of where he has come to in the moment of the song. There is a cycle of hatred that is continually referenced throughout the track. "I know you hate me don't you", "This plot is bigger than me, it's generational hatred", "I know you hate me just as much as you hate yourself". Here, Kendrick comes to terms with the hate and disadvantage he's received from the world identifying that hate has to come from somewhere, recognizing an internal hatred. He elaborates on the psychological experience of growing up in the U.S. as a black man "I mean it's evident that I'm irrelevant to society/That's what you're telling me penitentiary would only hire me/Curse me til I'm dead, church me with your fake prophesizing/That imma be just another slave in my head." The hate he faces is evidence of the disadvantage he deals with and eventually this hate is internalized until it is in his own head and perhaps becomes self-hatred.

Later in the verse he identifies the interesting tension of these battling hatreds, "I know you hate me just as much as you hate yourself/Jealous of my wisdom and cards I dealt/Watchin' me as I pull up, fill up my tank, then peel out/Muscle cars like pull-ups, show you what these big wheels 'bout, ah." The historical hate he discusses, born out of self hate, has become present-day jealousy, a pissing contest of big fast cars, the language of competition that America speaks. The person he refers to is not totally clear, but I think that is intentional. The cycle of hate is not predictable, it is complex and ingrained, hate comes from somewhere and has to go somewhere, here Kendrick describes this intricate behavior of hate.

We see the internal relationship with hate when he raps on his own stereotypes "My hair is nappy, my dick is big, my nose is round and wide" "I want you to recognize that I'm a proud monkey", by doing so, I think Kendrick reckons with the real angst people experience when dangerous stereotypes are internalized. He owns the stereotypes, and recognizes their very real impact on his lived experience and also his psyche. Kendrick goes on to reflect on the things he feels guilty for and where his hatred has spilled over. "You sabotage my community, makin' a killin'/You made me a killer, emancipation of a real *****", "So why did I weep when Trayvon Martin was in the street/When gang-banging make me kill a ***** blacker than me?/Hypocrite!" Kendrick now sees the cycle very clearly, his community was sabotaged and taken advantage of and his life was made more difficult, as a result it made him into "a killer." This thought is expanded on by the final line of the song, his reflection on Trayvon Martin's death recognizes the pain he has caused his own community. By owning this guilt, Kendrick concludes his deep processing. The experience of black people in America which Kendrick describes throughout the song showcases the true danger of hate, because of the cycle it creates.

Maimouna Youssef’s “Tell My Story” describes, in detail, Youssef’s experience of growing up half-black and half-indigenous. This split caused an identity crisis which is demonstrated by the explanation of Youssef’s relationship with her hair. She describes asking her grandma of indigenous origin “Why don’t I look like you?” and her grandma trying to “brush the black out” of her kinky hair. She describes the insecurities these struggles gave her and declares that “Self-hatred and white supremacy are quite the pair”

Both songs describe the deeply complex mental experiences of people of color growing up a society that does not understand their identities.

Edward Said insists that the Orient is not merely imaginative because it is deeply entwined with Europe's material and cultural foundations. The Orient, in his view, is not just a fantasy or a product of imagination; it is a real geographical and cultural entity that shaped European colonial expansion, provided the origin of its richest colonies, and served as a foil for the West’s self-definition. Said draws from Vico’s idea that we can only know what we create, framing both the Orient and Occident as constructs born out of human imagination and power structures. The "Orient" helped define the "Occident" by offering a contrasting identity: the mystical, exotic, and passive East against the rational, progressive, and active West. This dynamic was never neutral; it was underpinned by European domination and hegemony.

While all cultures interpret reality, the problem with Orientalists’ interpretations lies in their power dynamics. Orientalism is not a mere cultural lens but a system of knowledge characterized by authority used to dominate and represent the East. It created a rigid framework that defined the Orient as an Other to the West—mysterious, regressive, and subordinate. This essentialism denied the Orient agency, leaving its narratives and histories shaped by Western perspectives and justifying colonialism.

Stereotypes described by Vivek Bald, such as the "Hindoo" peddler or the mystical Indian, reflect these Orientalist tropes. Black and brown individuals often appropriated these images to navigate racial and social barriers. African Americans, by adopting "Oriental" markers, could momentarily escape the rigid racial hierarchies of the Jim Crow era. They exploited the Western association of the East with wisdom and magic to gain access to spaces and opportunities otherwise denied to them. This phenomenon demonstrates how Orientalism has a very real impact on the lived experiences of individuals and communities, even those far removed from the geographical boundaries of the Orient itself. Orientalism, then, as a constructed system of knowledge, is not only a tool of domination but also a space that can be leveraged by those on the margins.

In My Dungeon Shook Baldwin writes an open letter to his nephew who is named after him. He is writing to explain to James how to handle his fellow Americans and particularly white Americans. He says that these ‘countrymen’ have given James conditions for life that are uncomfortable and unfair. He says, “that they have destroyed and are destroying hundreds of thousands of lives and do not know it and do not want to know it.” This poetic description of systemic racism is what Baldwin establishes first.

He goes on to describe his own father (his nephew’s grandfather) who was a miserable man, “he was defeated long before he died because, at the bottom of his heart, he really believed what white people said about him.” Baldwin tells this story as a cautionary tale and ties his thought back to systemic racism when he tells James, “You can only be destroyed by believing that you really are what the white world calls a ******.”

Baldwin then reaches the main claim of his letter which is that the goal of integration is to eliminate the danger of systemic racism through acceptance of one another. This letter comes at a time when the civil rights movement is in full effect with integration of black people and elimination of segregation as the goal. Baldwin says that black people, specifically James, must learn to accept white people with love because they are trapped in a world that they do not understand. White people are consumed by their racist world and trapped by a history that they do not understand. Baldwin argues that they must be challenged by radical acceptance in order to break the cycle of fear and hate.

“I said that it was intended that you should perish in the ghetto, perish by never being allowed to go behind the white man's definitions.” Baldwin is telling his nephew that the only way to break free of the dangers of systemic racism and achieve integration is to challenge the preconceived expectations of white people. By accepting them with love, the hate can no longer perpetuate.

White people are trapped because of their own racism, Baldwin argues. Successful integration will allow white people to break free from their own biases and racist ideas that trap them. In this way, white people’s freedom from their own ideas is linked to black people’s freedom from oppression.

Rana's piece is profound in its description of racism's origin. He describes a comprehensive history of racial prejudice as inextricably tied to religion. He explains that hostility by European christians towards Jews and Muslims was a "a rehearsal for racial formation". Elaborating on this point, he says, "early sources of racism derived from competing imperial projects based in religious ideology." The catholic church was one of the driving forces of these religious divisions with their concept of "limpieza de sangre" (purity of blood) which essentially acted as a racial hierarchy.

Through the process of colonization, the motivation of religious difference and correction became commonplace as these barriers became politically entrenched and culturally ingrained. As this history progressed, the barriers between race, religion, and heritage were increasingly breached and the conceptions of each of them mixed. Terms became conflated and religious prejudice became xenophobia and then racism and vice versa. "Hindu", "Arab", "Syrian", and "Oriental" all came to carry prejudiced meanings beyond their original definitions.

The conflation of separate prejudices is the root of the connection between Islamophobia and racism. However, according to Rana, some conflation was more intentional. He describes that after the Christian Crusades, the Moorish conflicts, and the discovery of the new world had established religious tensions, Europeans were primed for the growth of economy and power through colonialism. As Rana says, “For European capitalism to expand, a religious other had to be created in Islamic rivals: the Turks and the Moors.” This expands on the idea that colonialism was driven by concepts of religious difference and when the Europeans established a firm presence in the Americas, it was Muslim othering that was applied onto American natives which developed the racism that still exists today.

Overall, Rana’s piece describes why throughout history, Islamophobia and racism are intricately entwined, neither existing without the other. Today, Rana explains, racism has evolved beyond religious ties in some ways with the influence of eugenics, and the biological basis of discrimination. However, the connection of these concepts is crucial to their history.

The chair of UK’s commission for Equality and Human Rights, Trevor Phillips said, “Multicultural communities tend to be less trusting and less happy . . . people feel happy if they are with people like themselves.” Phillips essentially presented multiculturalism as antithetical to happiness, even a threat to national survival as analyzed by Sara Ahmed in her chapter Melancholic Migrants in her book The Promise of Happiness. Therefore, Phillips believes integration and assimilation into hegemonic white western society for minorities is the only solution and path to secure collective happiness, the utilitarian way to achieve national harmony. It is difficult to believe that the leader responsible for UK’s Equality and Human Rights Commision in 2006 believed neglecting racialized and minority’s right to cultural expression and freedom is the key for society’s ability to function effectively. A way to accomplish integration, according to Phillips, is by sharing an activity like football that can transcend cultural and racial lines and connect communities.

However, Ahmed argues that using football to promote happy multiculturalism is no accident. By encouraging minorities to support national football teams, Phillips is positioning happiness as a reward for loyalty to the nation. In Bend It Like Beckham, football is portrayed as a path to freedom, in contrast to the traditional customs of Jess’s family, which are seen as obstacles to her happiness. The film positions football as a “creative action,” offering personal freedom and the potential to contribute to national pride.

Looking back at Bend It Like Beckham, I now see that the film's deeper message is about assimilation: to be part of the nation and achieve happiness, one must relinquish cultural customs. The film, like Phillips' view on football, suggests that happiness is conditional upon loyalty to the nation, which requires minorities to conform to Western ideals. I now see Bend It Like Beckham as the ultimate "model minority" film. It suggests that second-generation immigrants, like Jess, can achieve happiness by assimilation, abandoning cultural traditions in favor of national values, symbolized by football. This reflects a broader implicit messaging often told to second-generation diaspora: that their parents’ traditionalist ideals can often get in the way of their own ability to collect happiness both as a happiness receiver (through assimilation and aligning with whiteness), and if they are keen enough, as an object of happiness; making the country better through your talent and thus increasing their pride, ultimately increasing your national belonging. However, this message often told to second-generation kids creates dissonance and a disconnect between them and their parents, because then their parents’ cultural ideals then becomes the cost for their ability to achieve happiness.

The tension between first and second-generation immigrants is captured in Nitin Sawhney’s song "Nostalgia," which highlights the emotional disconnect between them. Nitin sings, “ I can feel your dreams (dreams), I can see you, I can touch your memories, But I can’t hear you”. While second-generation children can empathize with their parents' struggles, they often cannot fully understand their experiences, which can not only create a rift in values, but also in empathy and expectations.

I'm requesting a pass on this module as I attended the Australianama seminar.

I was exempted from 4 posts due to the gencocide in Palestine. This is the 2nd out of the 4 I am using.

Empire Empire showcases frustration with imperial history. The eerie beat seems to reflect the sinister presence of imperial power as the singer discusses his culture as a "voodoo image". He lays down at the feet of the "colonial crown" and declares "I've got empire, empire; temper, temper". The songs anger spills over as the angsty and abrasive instrumental gives way to raging yells in the final section. It's an emotionally charged track that expresses the generational unrest of imperial and colonial rule in a potent musical performance.
The line 'spread power with words' open 'Debris' which has the tone of a musical manifesto. The frontman points to 'the consequences of your global pillage' speaking to England as a world power and says to the colonial empire that 'when the truth is uncovered and the story's been told/you won't be able to look me in the face'. Continuing the prosecution of Great Britain, the second to last verse stories the guilty charges 'You treated my mother's land/Just like one big plantation/You did this to the African/You did this to the Asian/Famine was caused not by god but taxation/The fruits of our labour were used to build your nation'. The evils of imperialism are fully declared, and the colonial angst from 'Empire Empire' returns. 'Yes our underdevelopment was caused by your abuse' an MC repeats as a spacey instrumental plays. The song ends with a confident resistance as the MC returns to the first words of the song 'we are gonna, spread power with words'.

I was exempted from 4 posts due to the gencocide in Palestine. This is the 4th out of the 4 I am using.

using one of my exemptions

Like Chinese and Japanese sojourners, Indian sojourners had no incentive to assimilate. Although many of these East and South Asian labourers stayed permanently, they were not welcomed by white people in British Columbia, got paid between one half to two-thirds the wages that white people received, and were highly discriminated against. Therefore, like East Asian immigrants, South Asians formed small settled communities, which provided support for them, outside of white hegemonic society in BC. Because of this, many white people in BC perceived and continue to perceive South Asian immigrants as an ‘unassimilable group’, which was also based on fixed assumptions of East Asians as ‘unassimilable’ as they had a longer history within the province. This belief exacerbated exclusionary discrimination against South Asian immigrants.

Anti-immigrant rhetoric spread especially with the arrival of the Komagata Maru, a Japanese steamship with 376 prospective East Indian immigrants on board that were not permitted to leave the boat as it was anchored on Vancouver’s shore for two months while the province debated. The Komagata Maru occurance was a time of intense racial discourse in the province, apparent through the newspaper journals during 1914 which I found quite interesting. Discussions about multiculturalism were happening in depth for what seemed like the first time in Canada. One newspaper said “it is impossible ‘to make Canadians out of immigrants whose customs, traditions, and habits forms an insurmountable barrier between them and the Canadianization. East Indians are good men. In Canada they are just in the wrong place. That is all” (page 90).

There were calls for exclusion based on supposed humanitarian grounds, claiming East Indians were ill-suited for Canada’s climate and culture, but this argument feels very patronizing as though their acts of exclusion are for the good of East Indian immigrants, but this discrimination just disguised itself as a selfless act. Interestingly, Ward noted that “East Indians evoked a greater measure of white sympathy than either the Chinese or Japanese” (page 84). However, Ward also mentioned that prime minister “Laurier considered the Indian problem more serious than that of either the Chinese or the Japanese”—but this was in part because Indians were British subjects, so mitigating anti-Indian discrimination was in Canada’s best interest as member of the British commonwealth (page 86).

Nonetheless, most anti-“Hindoo” sentiment originated from a fear of a growing ‘unassimilable’ South Asian population undermining the province’s white homogenous identity and future. This fear already existed before the influx of East Indian migrants from 1906-1907 as it was shaped from the long-standing history of Sinophobia in BC against Chinese and Japanese migrants. This deep-seated Sinophobia informed white people’s perception of East Indian newcomers and how they should discriminate against them. Although there were over 2 million mostly European immigrants who entered and were welcomed in Canada between 1905-1914, antipathy against immigration focused on non-European immigrants. Therefore, concerns of Canada’s increased immigration was racially motivated more than on the basis of the incompatibility of two different cultures. There were also Western racist preconceptions of Indian culture as uncivilized, that Indians lived in “filth and squalor, of exotic, peculiar customs”, and that Indians were a “lesser breed of men, given to weakness, servility, and in some cases villainy” (page 82). This, along with economic concerns for increased immigration, resulted in widespread racist anti-immigration rhetoric in Canada.

Similarly to Canada’s west coast’s racial environment for Indian sojourners, Punjabis that moved to California in the early 20th century navigated difficult racial tensions. Leonard focused on the issues of Punjabi farmers when they sought marriage in a racist landscape that also did not welcome or accept them into white hegemonic society. Punjabi men needed to marry, but were not permitted to bring wives or families from India as the United States’ restrictive immigration laws prohibited at that time. Therefore, the need to marry transcended religious boundaries that were important in India for Sikh and Muslim Punjabi farmers in California. However, California’s marital laws prohibited marriages between Punjabi men and women of other races, but especially with white women. Romance between Punjabi men and white women was condemned and marriages between the two were illegal—the prospect of such a relationship often led to violence or arrest. For instance, a Punjabi man fell in love with a white woman in California in 1920, but his white neighbour threatened him with a shotgun and had him arrested. However, many marriage licenses were granted to Punjabi men to marry Mexican women. Not only were these marriages allowed, but they were common as there was a tendency for the Mexican wives of Punjabi men to arrange marital matches for their relatives with their husband’s relatives. Although these Punjabi farmers were denied many rights like naturalization, land ownership, and others in the early twentieth century, many found ways to navigate this new land, and make a life and family for themselves, demonstrating their resilience.

When I went to BC, I heard people say that “Surrey, BC was the Brampton of British Columbia” in a tone that seemed derogatory as though it was a vice to form a separate community unintegrated into white Canadian society. I think this trope of Indians, like East Asians, being ‘unassimable’ and forming their own communities separate from white hegemonic society is a problematic and racist critique. Not only are white people descendants of settlers in Canada that did not integrate into pre-existing Indigenous culture, but the expectation of immigrants to acclimate themselves into Canada, integrate into white hegemonic society, and learn their colonizer’s language of French or English in a place where they are often not even welcomed or accepted, seems utterly unfair. I am glad these pockets of cultural communities exist in Canada, they provide comfort, familiarity, and support for racialized communities. Visiting my Gigi (maternal grandmother) in Brampton, where I was born, brings me comfort, joy, and a sense of belonging that no other place in the world offers me. Instead of focusing on the so-called “unintegrated” communities, our political leaders should shift their attention to addressing the imbalance of resources allocated to these areas. Often, these communities are disproportionately underfunded and lack adequate social support, including education on the services available to them. A lack of awareness of resources like public housing and government aid has been a prominent theme of my young adulthood that I find people who grew up in ‘white neighbourhoods’ don’t have to worry about as much.

Buettener draws attention to the role of ethnic cuisine in multiculturalism, as well as in the development of British perspectives on the ethnic cultures as it relates to food.

Buettner points out David parker’s “celebratory multiculturalism,” where multiculturalism “refers to a succession of conscious efforts to make sense of, and manage, ethnically diverse communities at the local and national levels.” The strategy to combat racism and to implement multiculturalism became teaching about other cultures and preaching tolerance which arguably did little to actually confront racial prejudice. Restaurants made strategic choices to build a customer base among a white population to cater to their taste. Originally catered to Britons who had once lived in the subcontinent, South Asian restaurant started rising in popularity for other Britons due to lower prices, and the “adventure of trying an ‘exotic’ cuisine…”

Indian restaurants in the 1920s and 1930s, mostly catered to Indians, but also Britons who were former civil servants in British India. These restaurants provided the exotic, oriental atmosphere the ex-colonials craved, and were even called ‘sahib’ by the waiters. These restaurants continued to be patronized into the 1950s and the 1960s, but they were mostly for the colonials.

Food is a reference back to what once was. Food is a form of reliving memories, reliving the senses, the scents, the traditions that once shaped everyday lives of immigrants in their countries of origin. Never being able to reinstate what once was, food is that reference and food is that point of unity, togetherness, and finding solace in the search of home away from home. This search is what I think links food to migrant melancholia; given the nature of melancholia being a grieving process where the melancholic cannot simply grieve and move on, food becomes that factor the persists, resides, and remains to try to heal and address the greiving process, but also prolong it by never allowing th melancholic to let go of the loss.

In the 1950s and 1960s, Islam gained prominence among Black Americans as a response to systemic racism and the failure of Christianity to address racial inequality. The Nation of Islam offered an empowering message of self-reliance, racial pride, and resistance to oppression. Elijah Muhammad’s teachings reframed Black identity as central to a divine purpose, providing hope and dignity for those marginalized by white supremacist systems. The racialized mythology of the NOI, such as the story of “Yacub’s History,” portrayed white people as inherently evil and Black people as God’s chosen people. This worldview divereged significantly from mainstream Islam but resonated with Black Americans seeking to confront the historical and ongoing injustices of racism, as it offered a counter-narrative that affirmed their worth and collective destiny.

In the 1990s, English right-wing parties were marked by significant prejudice and intolerance. They justified their actions by claiming to address rising crime rates (Hutnyk, 51), but this was often just a cover for pursuing racial discrimination. Minority communities were frequently scapegoated, perpetuating harmful stereotypes. These parties held a simplistic view, grouping all oppressed groups as if their experiences were identical. This approach ignored the unique challenges faced by different communities and only deepened existing inequalities. This pattern wasn’t confined to England; similar attitudes were seen across Western nations, where Conservative politicians often viewed cultural diversity as a threat to social harmony. Such fears shaped policies and public discourse that marginalized ethnic and cultural minorities. In the UK, even Labour leaders like David Blunkett voiced concerns that anti-racist education might remove the focus on English culture and values in society (Kundnani, 131). These kinds of statements highlight how deeply rooted racism is in British society. The idea that combating racism could somehow harm British culture shows a troubling prioritization of national identity over equality. This mindset reflects a broader issue in some parts of Western society, where racism is often tolerated rather than directly challenged. Such attitudes dismiss the realities of marginalized communities and make it difficult to create a more inclusive and equitable society.

Furthermore, Kundnani observes that after the events of 9/11, there was an increase in liberal criticism of immigration and multiculturalism, signalling a broader societal shift toward exclusionary policies (Kundnani, 122). This change was accompanied by the institutionalization of anti-Muslim racism, driven largely by anti-terror legislation enacted during the so-called "war on terror." According to Kundnani, these laws normalized exclusionary practices, weaving them deeply into society's political and cultural systems (126). Integrationism only worsened the situation by promoting the idea that cultural conformity was necessary for social harmony. This mindset reinforced systemic biases, demanding that immigrants give up their unique cultural identities to fit into a "white person" ideal. Kundnani (p. 124) also highlights the rise of the concept of "community cohesion," which emphasized assimilation at the expense of multiculturalism. Such policies reflect a broader pattern of marginalization, forcing people to choose between their cultural heritage and societal acceptance.

Lastly, Kundnani delves into the issues of racial prejudice and Islamophobia, shedding light on how closely these forms of discrimination are intertwined. He argues that anti-Muslim racism is less about religious differences and more about racial discrimination, rooted in the way society perceives and treats Muslims. According to Kundnani, British integration policies not only fail to tackle systemic racism but, in many ways, contribute to its persistence by institutionalizing anti-Muslim sentiments. Kundnani’s work reveals how modern anti-Muslim racism is fueled by a racialized hostility that goes beyond mere religious intolerance. It stems from the belief that Muslims, as a group, inherently possess values that conflict with British or Western ideals. This harmful framing casts Muslims as outsiders, portraying their supposed beliefs as threats to societal stability. By doing so, it not only excludes them but also reinforces discriminatory attitudes.

In Jamie Gilham’s article, he talks about the white British men who converted to Islam in Liverpool. These men were mostly working-class and middle-aged, and many felt disconnected from their Christian faith. For some, the complex doctrines of Christianity, like the Trinity, were hard to wrap their heads around (Gilham 98, 105). With its clear structure and straightforward teachings, Islam offered them something they felt was missing in their previous beliefs (Gilham 106). But it wasn’t just about theology—many of these converts also found a sense of belonging and community in the Muslim community, which they had been searching for (Gilham 102).
This search for belonging can also be linked to Neda Maghbouleh’s work, where she looks at Iranian-American immigrants. In her study, she shows how some of them, even though they weren’t technically white, tried to align themselves with "whiteness" to better fit into American society (Maghbouleh 52). The British converts in Gilham’s study didn’t face the same racial discrimination as Iranian Americans, but in a way, they were also stepping outside the traditional British identity by choosing Islam. Both groups were looking for a place where they could find a sense of belonging, whether it was through religion or racial identity.
What’s striking here is that both groups felt like they didn’t completely fit into the identities society had for them. For the British converts, Islam allowed them to create a new identity that wasn’t tied to their old British or Christian labels. Similarly, for Iranian Americans in Maghbouleh’s study, identifying with whiteness became a way of navigating their social standing, even though their ethnic background didn’t align with it. In both cases, these individuals were searching for something more whether through religion or race that would help them carve out a space where they truly belonged.

In Gualtieri’s exploration of Syrian migration to North America, she highlights how the movement was driven by both economic struggles and the search for a better life. One of the key strategies Syrians used to survive in their new environment was the sale of goods, particularly fabrics. These goods didn’t just provide an income—they allowed Syrians to create an identity for themselves in a new and sometimes hostile environment. By selling these fabrics, Syrians were able to integrate into the broader economy while also holding on to aspects of their culture that set them apart as exotic and valuable in the eyes of the American public (Gualtieri, 33). This reflects how commodities could be used as tools for both survival and cultural expression.
Curtis’ research offers another perspective on how Syrians navigated their new lives, especially in the context of Michigan City. Here, the community’s survival was closely tied to economic opportunities, and the sale of goods like fabrics provided a means of financial stability. By participating in this economic activity, Syrians were not only able to sustain themselves but also carve out a place for themselves within the social fabric of the city (Curtis, 90). The act of selling these goods helped them establish a sense of identity and belonging, especially in a community that often saw them as outsiders, based on both their race and religion.
Both Gualtieri and Curtis show that Syrians weren’t just surviving—they were actively shaping their position within their new societies. Selling items like fabrics allowed them to engage with the local economy while maintaining their cultural connections. It also played a major role in how Syrians were perceived. Some saw them as a threat, while others viewed them as interesting newcomers with cultural value. In this way, commodities like fabrics became central to how Syrians managed to survive, build their identities, and navigate the challenges of being newcomers in a foreign land.

In exploring the evolution of Canadian public opinion toward the arrival of the Ugandan Asians, it’s important to note the racialized nature of immigration policies at the time. Initially, public opinion was largely resistant to their entry, driven by prejudices rooted in Canada’s history of white supremacy. Over time, however, this sentiment shifted as humanitarian concerns and international political pressures, like Canada's commitment to the Commonwealth and its role during the Cold War, pushed for a policy change (Muhammedi, p. 23).
This shift in Canadian attitudes towards Ugandan Asians echoes the experiences of Iranians in the United States, as discussed in Maghbouleh’s article. While Maghbouleh’s work focuses on the racialization of Iranians and their shifting classification under U.S. law, it reveals a similar transformation in public perception. Even before Iranians arrived in large numbers, they were seen as racially ambiguous, shifting between classifications of “white” and “non-white” depending on geopolitical contexts (Maghbouleh, p. 45). Major events, such as the Iranian Revolution and the subsequent hostage crisis, influenced public opinion, much like how the Ugandan Asians’ expulsion by Idi Amin and the Canadian government’s reaction were shaped by larger political factors (Maghbouleh, p. 51).
In both cases, racialization was a key factor in shaping how these groups were perceived. However, just as Canada eventually moved toward accepting the Ugandan Asians, public perception in the U.S. shifted over time albeit through complicated layers of geopolitical events, legal classifications, and racialized media portrayals. What this comparison shows is that racialization and public opinion are not static; they evolve in response to larger political forces, revealing the fluid nature of racial identity and public acceptance in the face of immigration and global events.

In “Leve-Toi et Rap” MC Solaar (Claude Honoré M’Barali) paints a detailed picture of his life and experience of France as a black man of African roots. He explains how his mother enforced his focus in school. “My mother cleans hospitals/She knows that knowledge will be my only ally” “Then I spent days in libraries”. Growing up in France, he explains what it was like “At that time in the middle of Paris there were skinheads” “Get me into a gang? Are you crazy or wack?” M’Barali is wary of the violence and hate he sees around him. “Then trip to Egypt, French School of Cairo/To perfect my flow and my vocabulary/There I learned humility, the fear of cartridges/Pure sniper style camouflage paw-mouche" “Mafia movies made me suspicious” He also criticizes the bravado and showmanship he sees in his life contrary to some themes of hip-hop culture “I walk low profile, don't show off any jewelry/"You're worth more than a brand" Mamadou told me.”

Throughout this song MC Solaar is critical of the culture around him that promotes materialism, violence, and racism. He finds his own confidence in his own quirks and unique style “They held a grudge against me because I had what they wanted/A style that was my own and the verb in the perfect tense.” Ultimately, he takes pride in the things that define his life like his education, his vocabulary, his flow, and his humility. At Solaar’s time, Paris was experiencing racial violence, which proved directly dangerous to him as a Senegalese immigrant of a working family. His genuine interest in learning both in his education but also as a human being helped to inform him of his worldview at a time when he didn’t always feel at home.

Growing up in a place that often threatened his individuality, MC Solaar finds solace in his talent to make music “Maybe because one day Jesus told me: ‘go ahead get up and rap.”

Quebec's history with the Catholic Church has significantly shaped its current "crisis of accommodation." The Quiet Revolution marked a dramatic shift for Quebec, from a society deeply influenced by Catholicism to one embracing secularism and state welfare. Thus, the decline of Catholic authority left a vacuum in Québécois identity. This rapid secularization, Mahrouse proposes, created a sense of cultural vulnerability among Québécois and anxieties about cultural preservation amidst increasing immigration. A prevailing sentiment began then to equate religious expression with threats to the province's hard-won secular values.

Francophone Quebec's dual position as a minority within Canada and a majority within the province further informs its relationships with "others." Quebec has developed a defensive stance toward its cultural integrity in response to a historical struggle against Anglophone dominance. Interculturalism is championed by the province, as it places the integration of immigrants into Francophone culture and the preservation of the French language at the core of maintaining Québécois identity.

In this context, the hijab symbolizes an incompatible cultural and religious "other.” The French debate over the hijab began in 1989 with controversies around laïcité (secularism) in schools. Proponents of the 2004 law banning hijabs in schools argued for gender equality, framing the hijab as inherently oppressive to the Muslim woman. This framing rendered the hijabi hypervisible as a symbol of oppression, yet invisible as an autonomous subject, casting their decisions to veil as acts of “false consciousness”.

Al-Saji furthermore critiques translations like "veil" and "foulard," arguing that they simplify and distort the hijab's meaning. "Foulard" reduces the hijab a removable accessory and ignores its integral role in the wearer’s bodily and cultural identity. "Veil," on the other hand, carries Orientalist stereotypes, portraying Muslim women as oppressed and Islam as regressive. These reductions fuel misrepresentations in debates over the hijab.

Quebec’s roots in Western Christian values helps drive the antagonization of immigrants, specifically Muslims. The Muslims being seen as pre-modern, uncivilized and barbaric, Quebec’s otherwise enlightened and modern ideas based in Judeo-Christian, and later laic values are seen as superior to those of minorities. The Bouchard-Taylor Commission as explored by Marhouse, details the implicit and explicit hierarchies, and marks of discrimination present in Quebec society.

French-Canadian Quebecers being a majority within Quebec but a minority within Canada, many in this open forums conducted by the commission expressed concerns that they simply cannot afford to follow a multicultural policy, because the lifeline of their culture is at risk.

What led the commission to be formed was known as the ‘reasonable accomodation debate’ focusing on the extent to which immigrant and minority practices ought to be accommodated. Events within Canada, like the case of a Sikh boy carrying his kirpan to school, or an 11-year-old girl being informed that she cannot play soccer because of her hijab. And notably, the Herouxville ‘life standards’ code of conduct which was rather bizarre and arbitrary list of rules to rule out perceptions of Muslim barbarianism. Following the events in Hervouxville, the municipal govnemrnt of that town asked to for a declaration of a state of emergency to preserve Quebec’s national identity. Immigrants and minorities were—and still are—seen as posing a threat to Quebec’s national history. And so, the govnerment set up the Bouchard-Taylor consultation commission.

Quebec nationalist political leaders believed it failed to address Quebec’s identity crisis, given that these leaders desired a Quebec constitution to enshrine majority’s common values. Given that it was sympathetic to immigrants’ and minority concerns, many immigratn groups were pleased. Marhouse argues the way the commission was conducted exposed the deepest cuts and issues of racial and majority-minority relations in Quebec.

Marhouse would argue that the public forums became a place where the French-Canadians stood on the offensive regarding the threat of minorities, and the minorities and immigrants were made to stand on the defensive. This only normalized the hierarchy between racilaiszed people and French-Canadian Quebecers as it became apologetic to be an immigrant, or it was as though the French-Canadians were judges and the minorities had to defend themselves.

“There are good reasons to suggest that the Commission itself amplified the crisis it sought to remedy.” The Commission furthered certain public perceptions against minorities, because it was the public forums and the commission’s “spectacle” that caught the public’s attention, not the intricate reports that shed light on the systematic discrimination of minorities.

In “Ghora” Blitzkrieg’s verse comes at direct odds with Roach Killa’s. Each of Roach Killa’s bars inserts a different gun entendre or reference. “Pistol in my waistline” “ready for war” “I’m just loaded I’m strapped” “Clap these motherfuckers” “fill their body with gunshots”. The hook of the song is punctuated by references to AK47s, and gunshot sounds and the video sees the rappers pointing finger guns at the camera. Basically, the concept of the song is based around very direct, and unsubtle gun references.

However, when Blitzkrieg begins his section, he flips the themes on their head. “I spit em rhymes like bullets call me M16/I’m whacktos intolerant allergic to bullshit/I heard you pack a toast, and you let off a full clip/Ya right, we don’t believe you/Tell lies to gain a rep man you got some issues” Immediately, Blitzkrieg confronts Roach Killas verse accusing him of lying for street cred. He rips off his own gun entendre and then tells Roach Killa that he sees right through his bullshit. Later he continues, “I don’t shoot guns don’t get it twisted kid/It’s a metaphor meaning all the rhymes I spit/And I got so many rhymes I can fill up a clip.” Now, all of a sudden, he tells the audience very clearly that gun references do not hold real meaning and explains exactly what his intention is. In a way he now gives new meaning to Roach Killa’s bars and adds complexity to the thesis of the song. He ends his verse with the line “My rhymes are my bullets, and my tongue is my gun.” Full circle, we end back on a gun metaphor and the song is complete.

Through his verse, Blitzkrieg assigns power to verse and words, diminishing the physical power and mental anxiety of guns. Roach Killa began the song by leaning into his MC name, an urban killer of pests, and tries to embody the machismo and toughness that comes with it. Through Blitzkrieg’s section, a whole new layer of the mindset is revealed, and the weight is shifted from the fear of guns to a recognition of the importance of words, warning Roach Killa to choose his wisely.

This really takes you into the life of someone navigating multiple layers of identity. Ali shares his journey as a queer Somali immigrant in Canada, struggling to figure out who he is while facing a bunch of challenges along the way. It’s not just about his sexuality but also the struggles with race, culture, and trauma that come with being from a marginalized background.
One thing that really stood out in the piece is how Ali describes the feeling of him not being able to fit in anywhere. He’s caught between his Somali roots and the pressure to fit into Canadian society, which seems to have its own set of expectations about race and identity. Then there’s his experience with being queer in a community that isn’t necessarily accepting. It’s tough enough figuring out who you are, but when your culture, family, and society don’t support you, it makes it a lot harder to find peace with yourself. His journey isn’t just about embracing his sexual identity; it’s about understanding how trauma and past experiences shape the way he views relationships, trust, and even love.
What I think is so powerful is how he shines a light on these struggles, identity, race, sexuality, and trauma. Which are still super relevant today, We’re living in a time where conversations around race and LGBTQ+ issues are more common, but it’s clear there’s still a long way to go. Ali’s experience shows us that the fight for acceptance is ongoing, and there are still so many people out there dealing with these kinds of battles in silence.
In today’s world, a story like this is much needed and a reminder to check our biases and make space for stories like Ali’s. It gives us the chance to look deeper into how society and even how our own families impact how we see ourselves and each other.