“I never learned – and I hope to never learn – to stay silent about injustice” emphasizes the author, poet, educator, and advocate Dr. El Jones in her speech as she received an honorary degree from Acadia University at last year’s spring convocation ceremony. I was fortunate to hear from her again on March 21st during the “Confronting Systemic Racism and Medical Colonialism in Health Care” policy dialogue, co-hosted by the Institute for Public Administration of Canada – Nova Scotia and Acadia University Department of Politics. Alongside Dr. El Jones, the panel featured powerful voices that highlighted the daily injustices perpetuated by racial discrimination, particularly within health systems.
Attending this eye-opening experience, allowed me to reflect deeply on the issues of colonialism, race, and the systemic challenges faced by marginalized communities. While I could provide an overview of the entire event in this reflection, I want to focus on the perspectives that resonated with me the most: those shared by Dr. Samir Shaheen-Hussain and Dr. El Jones. These two individuals didn’t just speak knowledgeably about their fields—they conveyed an emotional depth and passion that made their words stick with me long after the event concluded.
Dr. Shaheen-Hussain is an associate professor in the Department of Pediatrics and an associate member of the School of Population and Global Health, both in the Faculty of Medicine and Health Sciences at McGill University. He works as a pediatric emergency physician in Tio’tia:ke (Montreal) and has been involved in anti-authoritarian social justice movements – including Indigenous solidarity, anti-police brutality and migrant-justice organizing – for over two decades. His insights into medical colonialism were particularly striking. He focused on the ongoing, devastating impact of colonial structures on Indigenous peoples, particularly within the healthcare system. One of the most impactful points he made was that false narratives and stereotypes are still, to this day, being used to justify the mistreatment of Indigenous people. When these biases are confronted, they’re often weaponized to claim that Indigenous people “deserve” this mistreatment because of their supposed inferiority. This sense of entitlement to dehumanize, justified by long-standing prejudices, is something that continues to permeate the medical field.
Dr. Shaheen-Hussain also shared a quote from an Indigenous woman before her death that resonated deeply with me: “No ID in Montreal, you may as well be an immigrant in Alabama.” At first, this statement elicited a chuckle from me, but it’s deeply unsettling once you think about it. The truth behind her words is both painfully accurate and enraging. From the moment you step into a hospital, and you’re not white-passing, you’re often treated like an outsider, an alien. The healthcare system, like so many other institutions, is permeated by biases that continue to structure and distort the experiences of Indigenous peoples.
Dr. El Jones, whose work focuses on the intersection of incarceration, education, and social justice, also made a profound impression on me. As someone who works in youth detention centres, hearing her speak about the conditions in male adult detention centres was sickening. The bleak reality of what happens to incarcerated individuals, particularly those who are marginalized, is something I’ve felt in my own work, but Dr. Jones’s words made that feeling of heartache even more acute. One of her key points was that literacy and education are, in fact, health issues. I couldn’t agree more. The lack of access to education and the barriers it creates are a significant determinant of an individual’s overall health, both physical and mental.
Dr. Cynthia Alexander, whom I’ve also had the privilege of learning from, echoed a similar sentiment: “All policy is health policy.” These concepts connected me in ways I hadn’t fully appreciated before. Without education, people are ill-equipped to take care of themselves, and this directly affects their well-being.
As I listened to Dr. Shaheen-Hussain and Dr. Jones speak, I couldn’t help but think about a statement said by Dr. Can Mutlu from the Politics Department just a few days prior, during a roundtable talk. Dr. Mutlu made an important point about how people often like to think of themselves as bystanders in situations where racism or discrimination is unfolding. However, he reminded us that we are all actors in these situations, whether we choose to engage or not. This message echoed in my mind as I absorbed the information presented by these powerful speakers.
It also made me realize just how interconnected everything is. The power dynamics we witness in healthcare, prisons, and education are not isolated—they are part of the same complex system that perpetuates inequality and injustice.
This reflection was further compounded by an unsettling observation I made during the event. In the span of just three days, I attended three events—each providing new insights and perspectives on issues that directly impact marginalized communities. These three events, totalling no more than three hours of my time, left me feeling more informed and more aware than ever before. Yet, what struck me even more profoundly was the absence of my peers at these events. I was left wondering, how can we expect people outside of political fields to care about these issues if even those of us studying politics, who are supposed to be the ones advocating for change, don’t seem to think it’s worth attending?
This realization stirred a deep sense of frustration and anger in me. It’s not just that we’re missing out on important conversations—it’s that the very professionals who will eventually make decisions about our healthcare, our prisons, and our educational systems are often so disconnected from the realities faced by marginalized people. How can we trust healthcare professionals to provide equitable care when they haven’t even been taught about the history of medical colonialism? How can we trust a system that fails to acknowledge the deep-rooted biases it’s built upon? In particular, I thought about my own experiences as a Black woman and how these systems—be they medical, educational, or judicial—are stacked against people like me. The reality is that I am at risk of becoming just another statistic in the tragic list of Black women who die in childbirth because of systemic racism within the healthcare system. That reality feels all too close.
This is why the lack of engagement from my peers is so deeply troubling. These issues aren’t just theoretical—they are real, lived experiences that directly impact people’s lives. If those of us who are studying politics and policy aren’t even bothering to show up and engage in these conversations, what hope do we have for the rest of society? Attending this policy dialogue was another wake-up call for me.
The experiences shared by Dr. Shaheen-Hussain and Dr. Jones highlighted just how deep and pervasive the issues of racism and colonialism run within our institutions. Their passion and their drive to effect change were palpable, but the frustration I felt as I realized how little engagement there was from my peers was almost overwhelming. It’s clear that the work of addressing these injustices isn’t just about gathering knowledge—it’s about translating that knowledge into action. And if we, as future leaders, and policymakers, don’t start showing up, both in the classroom and in real-world conversations, we’ll continue to perpetuate the systems of oppression we claim to want to dismantle.
