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I hate the way you made me feel / I hate the way I cried / I hate the way I ran home / I hate that I had to hide.

I’m Black. I’m a woman. I’m an immigrant. I’m the product of a working-class family. I’m a fervent celebrator of Pride. I’m so much more than just one thing, and I have immeasurable honour and joy in embracing all of these identities at once.

There is power behind the name / The unspoken strength

Whenever I go home, I visit a bench overlooking the river valley. It’s one of my favourite spots in Edmonton. The city, and the memories it contains, spread out in a panorama.

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