My friends call me E.T. but my real name is Eric Theodore Jr. A
six-foot-two, lean and ruggedly handsome young Black man living in the
city of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the city of Cap-Haitien, Republic
of Haiti, but raised in Boston, Massachusetts. Later, I moved to
Canada. Recently, I graduated with a bachelor's degree in Criminology
from Carleton University. Also known as Canada's Capital University.
Graduation Day was one of the happiest days of my life. However, it
pales compared to this one. You see, today is my wedding day.
In a few hours, I will marry a truly remarkable young woman. Veronique
Christiana Orville. The gal everyone at Carleton University calls "V.C.
Orville". A five-foot-eleven, curvy and chocolate-skinned sister who
looks like an African Goddess come to life. We met in an Ethics Class at
Carleton University. Let's just say she made one hell of an impression.
She's a year older than me but that's never been an issue with us. I've
always had a thing for tall, curvy Black women. I like them even more
if they've got cute faces and big, heart-shaped bottoms. That's just
what I like, folks. The Black woman is my Standard of Beauty. Accept no
substitute. Peace! V.C. was sexy as hell and extremely smart. How could I
resist her?
Here I am, standing before Pastor Roberto Lemieux inside Rayon De
Lumiere, the only Haitian Adventist Church in the city of Ottawa. The
church is packed with guests. The Pastor is a stocky Black man in his
early fifties. Standing nearby are my groomsmen. Antoine Charles, a
short, slim, Caramel-skinned brother from Algonquin College. He winks at
me and I shake my head. Next to Antoine stands my actual brother George
Theodore, a six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered and muscular,
Hershey-coloured Black man in his late twenties. He's a member of the
Community Action Team of the Massachusetts State Police. He came all the
way to Canada to support me on my wedding day. I can't thank him enough
for that, especially given what transpired between us before and after I
left Boston.
One of the reasons why I want to become a lawyer is due to my strong
dislike of abusive and bigoted men and women who work in law
enforcement. My brother George thinks his co-workers on the State Police
Force are pure radiant saints. And we've clashed over our differing
viewpoints. I think most cops are racist. And I don't apologize for it.
My brother disagrees. To the point that it caused a rift between us.
Last year, George married a fellow police officer, a tall and
exquisitely beautiful Jamaican-American sister named Amelia Johnson. And
I couldn't make it to their wedding. To be honest, I didn't really try
to. I don't think I would have gone even if I didn't have exams that
week. That's all in the past, though. My brother and I got past all
that. Last but not least among my groomsmen is my good friend Taylor
Pierre, also known as T.P. He's a tall, chubby and coconut-coloured
Haitian guy from the University of Montreal. All my peeps showing me
love on my wedding day. I feel truly blessed.
Nearly my entire family is gathered in the church. My parents live in
Boston, Massachusetts, and hate cold-ass Canada but they came anyway. My
father Eric Theodore is a Municipal Court Judge in Boston. He moved to
America during the 1970s while in his teens, and attended Boston College
High School and later, Suffolk University. He met my mother Odessa Jean
while attending Boston College Law School. She's a Professor of
Criminal Justice at Pine Manor College now. They can't stand today's
truly Canadian weather but wear brave smiles. I don't fault them for not
liking Canada. I hate the place, though for entirely different reasons.
People of color make up close to forty percent of the United States
three hundred and ten million Americans. In Canada, we're basically
scarce. And I hate it. I'm used to living in a place with more
diversity. There are many people of Haitian descent in Boston. We've
made it our home away from home. In other Massachusetts cities like
Randolph, Brockton and Lynn, Haitians are known for our sheer numbers,
energetic drive for higher education and economic ascendance, and our
joie de vivre. We're a community of survivors, political strife and
natural disasters be damned. And we love our own. That's why my folks
left warm and sunny Boston to come to cold and musky Ottawa on this
Saturday morning in May for my wedding.
Earlier, I had tears in my eyes as my father tied my tie. I hadn't seen
my Pops in ages, or the city we both loved so much. Boston is a place
I've called home ever since I was a small child. I lived there with my
folks for most of my life and hated leaving it. My parents sent me to
Canada for higher education because the U.S. was a mess at the time.
With millions of Irishmen, Italians, African-Americans and Hispanics
finding themselves unemployed during the Recession, America's big was
even less hospitable for a young Black man than it would be in normal
times. You know what popular targets we are for bigoted cops and gangs
of roughnecks even in the best of times. Add to that the socio-political
mess of thinly disguised and racially divisive Hate Movements like the
Tea Party Movement, and you can understand why it might seem like a good
time for a young Black man to spend some time outside the U.S. of A. PS
: I don't care what the Tea Party people say. They're just a bunch of
angry White folks who hate the fact that a Black man, U.S. President
Barack Obama, finally runs the country. They're actually the eager
puppets of a cabal of super wealthy people who fund their operations.
I did good during my time in Canada. I got my degree and I met a
remarkable, wonderful young woman. I befriended a crop of hard-working,
God-fearing and highly educated young Haitian men who truly did their
communities and families proud. Adjusting to life in Canada hasn't been
easy for me. It's a really strange place. In Boston, the whole city is
one big village, essentially. At Boston College High School, I had lots
of friends who were African-American, Irish, Italian, Chinese and
Hispanic. It's the most diverse private school around. The Canadians
claim to want diversity in their schools and cities but I find them to
be far more bigoted and narrow-minded than the average American. There's
a certain insincerity and covert bigotry behind their studied
politeness. Of course, you have to really want to see it. Whatever. I
didn't come to Canada to make pals with the locals. I came to make some
money and get a decent education.
I chose Carleton University because it's more diverse than most of the
major Canadian schools. Lots of immigrant families who moved to Canada
from places like South Africa, the Middle East, the Caribbean, Brazil
and China send their sons and daughters to Carleton. I found it more
relaxed and less pretentious than the University of Ottawa, whose
students tend to be bigoted and elitist, especially when dealing with
newcomers. Oh, and this elitist attitude isn't limited to the White
Canadians. I've met young Black women of Haitian descent who were born
in Canada whose negative attitude toward newcomers is quite similar to
that of their White friends. Being stuck in Ottawa isn't funny, it's
boring. The whole city basically sucks. There are no cool nightclubs. No
fun hangouts. No interesting people. And the city really wasn't
diverse. People of African, Hispanic, Asian and Arab descent make up a
little more than twenty percent of the population.
I felt like I was trapped in Ottawa until I met V.C. Sometimes, I think
she saved my life. It was early in the game and Ottawa was the most
depressing place on earth, at least in my eyes. The Canadians are far
less friendly than they claim to be. And far more bigoted too. I've seen
Asians, Indians and Arabs make racist jokes about Blacks and others
with their White friends. I've also heard some of my fellow Haitians
make negative remarks about Somalians. That really surprised me. What
the hell? We Haitians are Black and the Somalians are Black! Why
discriminate against our own? Regardless of where you come from, if
you're a Black person living in North America or Europe, you're targeted
by racists. So why should the International Black Community divide
itself into factions rather than unite? How cool would that be, if we
were all united? The bigots have truly gone diverse in Ottawa! The only
thing I saw in that city was a dead end, until V.C. showed me a new
world.
Veronique Christiana Orville. The tall, gorgeous and absolutely
statuesque daughter of Ottawa's first Haitian-born police sergeant,
Vincent Orville. A civil engineering student at Carleton University. I
was in awe of her. There are so many gorgeous young Black women in
Ottawa. They come from the Caribbean, Africa, Latin America and many
other places. Yet it seems Black men in Ottawa chase White women like
their life depends on it. Personally, I don't know why they do it. I
love Black women. And I've always loved them. I don't think a White
woman can relate to my struggle as an ambitious young Black man in the
uptight and bigoted world of North America. We live in different worlds.
I doubt we would really click. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes. I was
telling you about V.C. and me.
V.C. was born in Vancouver, one of Canada's most diverse cities. People
of color are the majority in Vancouver right now, how cool is that?
According to her, there were a few people of African descent in her
native town and she grew up in a loving, supportive enclave made up of
Jamaicans, Haitians, Afro-Brazilians and Somalians. A lot of Black
Canadians are White-washed. They don't like being Black. They don't
think much of Black folks from other places. Many of them probably
secretly wish they were White. That's probably why so many of them don't
date each other. It's almost as if some of these so-called Black
Canadians want to purge their Blackness away. I don't have that problem.
I'm a proud son of Haiti, the first independent Black republic in the
New World. The first place where people of color actually got some
revenge for the evils of slavery and European imperialism. I don't think
being Black is a curse. I am proud of my Blackness. I love the Black
women and Black men of the world. We're one family. I don't envy White
people. Not now. Not ever. I've never wanted to be anything other than
what I am. I will however fight for equality and opportunity with my
dying breath. That's who I was raised to be.
I never thought I would meet a like-minded Black person in all of
Canada. It seems Black Canadians spend most of their time pretending
that racism doesn't exist. They're very quick to defend Canada as a
bastion of politeness, open-mindedness and multiculturalism whenever a
newcomer like myself points out the blatant bigotry of some random White
person we encounter in a public place. I can't stand these Oreos. I
thought Black Canadians had zero unity. I'm sick and tired of all these
Black Canadian men who claim that Black women in general are too
difficult to handle and instead chase White women. Someone should tell
these clowns not to come crying to the Black community when they're
accused of harassment, dating violence or sexual assault by their blonde
friends. Bunch of traitors.
V.C. shared many of my viewpoints. Her family had been in Canada for
generations. Her Haitian-born maternal grandmother Charlotte Des-Pres
fought against segregation in order to teach at a sparsely integrated
school in Halifax, Nova Scotia in the late 1950s. Her parents wanted her
to know where she came from, so she was spent to vacation in Haiti
every summer since she was quite young. That's an experience I shared.
My family and I vacationed in Haiti practically every summer. Good
times. V.C. lived in an off-campus apartment near Baseline and her place
was simply amazing. She collected books on pre-colonial African history
and Haitian history. Her bedroom walls were filled with pictures of
Black intellectuals, political, media celebrities, athletes,
entertainers and academics. This young woman was a student of Black
Life. And I loved that about her.
V.C. showed me a side of Ottawa I never knew existed. Apparently, not
all Black men and Black women in this city were self-loathing and
assimilation-craving sell-outs. Quite a few of them were proud of their
Black heritage and identity. V.C. is a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha, the
well-known international sorority for Black women. V.C. also has some
truly remarkable friends. Intelligent, beautiful and simply amazing
young Black women from all over. Her best friend Rashida O'Neill
Mohammed is half Irish and half Somalian. A tall, slim, Caramel-skinned
and long-haired young Black woman. She's alright but I don't like this
much milk in my coffee. Another close friend of hers is Juanita
Champagne, a short and curvy, truly vivacious Haitian sister. I grew to
like her entourage. There are so many spirited young Black women in this
city. It's really too bad the Black men here don't appreciate what they
have.
Let's break with politics for a minute and focus on the essentials. My
love for my woman. I truly appreciate my beloved V.C. I really do. A
tall, beautiful and educated young Black woman who still loves Black men
is indeed a rare thing in North America. A rare treasure to be
preserved for posterity. Veronique Christiana Orville might have been
born in Canada, that doesn't change the fact that she's a true B.A.P. in
my eyes. A Black American Princess. And I'm the type of brother who
treats a Black Princess the way she deserves to be treated. I was
fascinated by V.C.'s keen intellect and awesomely sexy body. She showed
me around Ottawa, took me places like the Museum of Civilizations, and a
few other interesting spots.
I took her dancing in Baha House, this brand-new, Jamaican-owned Reggae
night club which opened near downtown Ottawa. Truly a prime location.
The club was mainly frequented by Hip Hop fans and the clientele was
truly multi-ethnic. We felt comfortable there. Haitians and Jamaicans
have always been good neighbours. V.C. was so graceful and sensual on
the dance floor. With her eyes locked in mine, we created our own rhythm
and owned the dance floor. The feel of her big, round butt against my
groin was absolutely fantastic. I love wrapping my arms around her as we
dance. She's awesome!
In the lovely V.C. I found the woman of my dreams. Someone I could share
my beliefs with, my hopes and dreams. Someone I could be myself around.
I know this world is changing. I truly wish that more people,
especially Black folks in the Americas, had a more global perspective. I
live in a world that's truly unique. A world where a Black man can
truly be anything he wants to be. The Governor of Massachusetts. The
Governor of New York. The Mayor of Atlanta, Georgia. The Mayor of
Detroit, Michigan. The President of the United States of America. The
Chief of Police in Oakland, California. The Attorney General of the
United States of America. Guess what all these important people have in
common? They're all Black men!
I really wish I could inspire young Black Canadian men to take up the
challenge. They have so much potential but lack motivation. They live in
a world where higher education is quite accessible. If Black Canadian
men had the drive, ambition, resilience and toughness of Black American
men, they'd run Canada. I know that in Canada, discrimination is
systemic rather than purely racial. There are hurdles put in place by
the Canadian Government to prevent men and women from Africa, the Middle
East, Latin America, China and the Caribbean from progressing too fast
in Canadian society. That's why they take such a long time to
acknowledge the credentials of foreigners. Yeah, the Canadian Government
is bigoted. They're not fooling anyone. However, these obstacles can be
overcome. Why are people of color living in Canada so attached to it
anyway? If the Hockey-loving and absolutely polite bigots don't want you
around, come to America!
Canada has so many people of color with University degrees. Since Canada
doesn't seem to appreciate them, they should move to America. Say what
you will about America, it has always welcomed the talented. American
companies will go to India, China and Japan to grab some talented guy or
lady to do the job that an American-born bozo can't or won't do well. I
always shudder when I hear immigrants say they like Canada more than
America. Give me a break. America has had three Black women, an Asian
lady and one Arab woman win National Beauty Contests. America is an
evolving, unique country with ever-changing national demographics.
Canada is basically a smaller copy of not-so open-minded Europe. End of
story.
Oh, man. Forgive, I tend to digress. Sorry, but all of these thoughts
came flooding into my consciousness as I stood before the Pastor,
waiting for my bride-to-be. When I saw her walk down that aisle in her
shiny white dress, surrounded by her lovely bridesmaids, she took my
breath away. In that moment, I forgot about everything that didn't
absolutely matter. Constant culture shock. My frustrations with the fake
people of Ottawa after leaving behind my beloved Boston. My struggles
in Canada, and my triumphs. All of it was worth it. For I got to meet
her and be with her. Standing beside me, V.C. smiled at me. She looked
absolutely amazing. I thanked my lucky stars for having her in my life.
And thus, we were married before our respective families and friends.