When Inclusion Comes at a Cost
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Thobani argues that the category "visible minority," created by the Canadian state, plays an important role in silencing anti-racist discourse while maintaining white dominance in multicultural policies. By tying cultural differences to visible racial differences, this category helps hide the ongoing privilege of whiteness and justifies the assimilation of immigrants under the state’s control.
Labeling ten non-white groups as "visible minorities" puts skin colour front and center as a marker of difference. This creates a link between how people look and their culture, framing these differences as fixed and unchangeable. As a result, racialized groups are seen as fundamentally different and incompatible with what are considered Canadian values.
This connection between race and culture is what Thobani calls the "culturalization of racism." Unlike the blatant biological racism of the past, this newer form of racism focuses on supposed cultural incompatibility. It works to maintain hierarchies of power, but in a way that’s harder to call out because it’s masked by ideas of tolerance and celebrating diversity.
Within this system, cultural differences are often treated as barriers to inclusion. Immigrants are expected to change and conform to the norms and values of the dominant (white) society. Multiculturalism may claim to celebrate diversity, but it actually promotes assimilation, framing it as necessary for participation while ignoring the deeper problem of systemic racism.
Ultimately, this system reinforces white dominance by clearly separating "real" Canadians—white people—from "others," the visible minorities. Policies like the Immigration Act, which focuses on preserving Canada’s bilingual and bicultural identity, make this distinction even stronger. In the end, whiteness stays at the center of what it means to be Canadian, while racialized groups are pushed to the margins.
The song Blood Brothers paints a complicated picture of the American Dream, connecting financial success and social mobility with the sacrifices demanded by hard work, but it ultimately forces us to question whether this dream is really worth it. At first, Nimo believes wholeheartedly in the promise of the American Dream. He leaves India with the clear goal of becoming a millionaire, convinced that hard work is the key to achieving success. Over the course of four years, he accomplishes his goal of gaining wealth and fame. On the surface, this seems like a triumph—a validation of the idea that anyone can climb the social and economic ladder with enough effort.
But the song doesn’t stop there. Swap’s perspective challenges this success, showing the personal costs that come with chasing financial success. He reminds Nimo of the family left behind, asking, “Do you think about Mama and Papa, or have you forgotten them?” Their parents’ health is failing, and yet Nimo seems consumed by his work, prioritizing money over relationships. Swap also points out how Nimo’s health has suffered, hinting that the physical and emotional toll of this relentless pursuit has left scars. The wealth Nimo has gained starts to feel hollow, weighed down by the relationships and well-being it has cost him.
By the end of the song, even Nimo starts to question whether it was all worth it. His line, “No, I would never let you go [through] what I’ve gone through,” is a striking moment of self-awareness. It suggests regret and forces us, as listeners, to reflect on whether the American Dream is really a dream or a trap. While it promises wealth and mobility, the sacrifices it demands—family, health, and connection to one’s roots—make us wonder if the cost is too high.