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I went to bed March 14 with the ghastly images of the horrific incident in Christchurch, New Zealand, in my head. Racism and xenophobia have deeply seeped into our everyday lives. No country, no individual remains immune to its virulent viciousness. And while this beast spreads its roots, it transforms to take a variety of shapes and forms. This is that story – the story of the various mutations of racism.

My Canadian journey began rather tempestuously. In 2010, Hurricane Igor hit Atlantic Canada hard and strong. My flight was one of the last ones to land. Having just finished watching the TV series Lost, hurtling towards an island in a turbulent airplane wasn’t the arrival I expected. But, as you can see, I survived to tell the tale.

Memorial University of Newfoundland (MUN) brought me to Atlantic Canada. This is where I pursued and completed my master’s in engineering management. The experience at MUN was, for the most part, good. I am grateful for the amazing professional opportunities – including my first job here – that MUN provided. However, one particular incident stands out clearly that left an indelible impression on my mind. On the first day of a new job at MUN, I was asked to introduce myself – which I did with my name, Prajwala Dixit. And upon doing so, I was asked, "So what can we call you?" A little confused, I kept mum following which these words tumbled out of my supervisor’s mouth, "You know because it's hard to say …"

Yes, like many ethnically unique and melanin-rich individuals, I, too, have experienced racism here in Atlantic Canada. It pains me to tell you that it is alive and well but, like us, it has evolved. In its new avatar, it is, usually, not direct but is expressed through micro-aggressions, like the above-mentioned instance. A micro-aggression is an indignity that is expressed verbally, behaviourally and/or environmentally that (either through ignorance or intent) conveys hostility and prejudice towards an entity.

An encounter that has been a constant in my experience is being complimented on my English. At first, I was happy to receive the compliment but soon began to understand the bias beneath this ‘praise’. The assumption that a person of my colour did not speak fluent English, coupled with a lack of understanding of the entrenched colonialism in the Indian subcontinent, made the prejudice stand out loud and clear.

Funnily, another example also involves English. Of the six languages I have learnt, English is one of my first languages (Kannada being the other). However, solely based on my accent and the my melanin-rich skin, in various professional settings, it has been assumed that English is my second language, due to which I have lost out on professional opportunities.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I wish I wasn’t included or excluded from anything. All I want is to contribute positively to the social, cultural and economical growth of the place I call home.

Through this journey, I can tell you that words matter, especially what is used within the diversity movement. Buzzwords like "inclusion" and "integration" (used significantly with newcomers and immigrants), at their very core, have the ability to empower an individual to act upon including or, more importantly, excluding an entity that they encounter. The scales are unfavourably tipped onto one side, putting all the power into one entity’s hand.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I wish I wasn’t included or excluded from anything. All I want is to contribute positively to the social, cultural and economical growth of the place I call home.

Experiences, like the ones peppered here, aren’t often spoken about and many a time cause immigrants to silently move away from Atlantic Canada, something that I seriously debated, too. Alongside the micro-aggressive "othering", the alarming rise in the prices of heat, gas and groceries, combined with a volatile oil-dependent economy, continue to add considerable stress to a young and growing family, like mine, looking to set roots.

However, having lived in five different cities across three countries and two continents, I realize that every place comes with its own set of pros and cons. I remind myself that the rugged beauty of the coast, the stillness and ferociousness of the Atlantic, the vibrancy of the Jelly Bean Row houses and (of course!) the (many) wonderous people I’ve encountered are great descriptions of a place to call home. Hence, choosing to see the positives, I continue to live, grow and thrive here hoping to create priceless memories that colour Atlantic Canada vibrantly.

Prajwala Dixit is an Indian-Canadian engineer, journalist and writer in St. John’s, N.L., who writes a monthly regional column for the SaltWire Network. When she isn't engineering ways to save the world, she can be found running behind her toddler, writing and volunteering. Follow her and reach her at @DixitPrajwala

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