In the Name of Allah, The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

Thank you so much for having me today. And thank you everyone for being here. I would like to reiterate that we are situated on Treaty 6 territory and that these are the traditional lands of Indigenous people who have lived, gathered and passed through here for many thousands of years. They are still here and it is on you to insure that that is forever the case.

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I also want to acknowledge that I am a white, cis woman, the child of Italian immigrants to this land, and the mother of a beautiful, Arab girl, a convert to Islam and all those things are combined, I am afforded certain privileges and I pray that I am using these to the advantage of every person, people of every gender, orientation, religion, ethnicity, ability and anything else we use to identify ourselves.

I came here today to inform you that the day you were born was not the day you came out of your mother’s womb. The day you were born was the first time you witnessed injustice and you decided to take a stand. Deep down inside you, alarms bells started ringing and a call resounded through the center of your being. A call to take action, a call to stand up and use your voice to say, “No, hatred will not live here, Oppression will not be tolerated, injustice will not be served today.”

The day you heard that call may have been November 8th, when the one who shall remain unnamed was legitimized in his hatred and misogyny, and propelled to the highest institution of the most powerful nation in the world. And we will oppose him. And all echoes of him at home.

That day might have been before. It might have been after. The day you hear that call might be today, right now.

For it is a call I am issuing. This is not a call to silent prayer but a call to submission of the ego in the service of others, even if those others are a future self in need of your present compassion. It is a call of recognizing that any of us could be oppressor or oppressed and that many of us are both, and we’re standing on a fine line and you are choosing dignity, respect and compassion that every single one of us has earned by virtue of our existence.

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It is a call to make space for one another, to take space when it is not yielded, to recognize that we create the worlds we live in, and that hatred and love take effort of an equal measure. The day you were born was the first time you saw hatred in action and you chose Love.

Fierce love. Love that dismantles and is disobedient. Enraged love. Disappointed love. Grieving Love. Love that refuses to accept anything less than solidarity, anything less than taking care of one another.

Taking care of one another does not only mean fixing dinners and giving shoulders to cry on – though those things are important. No, taking care means a commitment to the idea that, even if I have never met you, I love you and I respect your right to a life of dignity and hope, a life of self-actualized growth and I will fight for you.

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I do not accept that black, brown, Muslim, Sikh, and Jewish people with varying orientations and degrees of ability are made the collateral damage in the bulldozing path of a historical lie spun incessantly about racial and social superiority, while those who spin it hold our planet, our children, our wealth, our future, our collective soul hostage. I do not accept how they divide us. I do not accept that our trauma and violence are painted as intrinsic to who we are, while they cover their colonization in the fog of words, in a war of semantics, in imperial programming. I refuse to normalize their hatred.

The day you were born was the first moment you witnessed power in action and you said no to it. Where you traced its institutions, its circulatory system, feeding life into those who designed it and relegating the rest of us to despondency and despair. You deserve better than a life of despair.

Answering the call is a commitment to replacing despair with kindness, even when kindness means blocking roads and lobbying governments. Especially when it means that.

So I want to ask all of you and please let me hear a beautiful Yes:

Do you hear the call?

Do you hear the call today?

We are not here to feel good about ourselves. We celebrate who we are and we resist in our joy but we are not here to joke around about what is happening south of the border, around the world, in our own backyard, in our families. We are here to make a public declaration to do better and to stop those who won’t.

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The work does not end here, it starts right now.

I want you to turn to the person next to you, put your hand over your heart, look them straight in the eye and face their humanity. Thank them for being here today. Thank them for taking a stand and answering the call of Justice.

Repeat after me:

I am here for you.

I will always be here for you.

I will defend you.

I will use my voice

In the face of your oppression.

I will work for justice.

I hear the call.

And I answer it.

Very good.

Hear this call today, everyone, I am holding you accountable Let it echo every day in every action you take.

It is history calling, wondering what side you will be on.

It is our duty to memory, wondering how selective you will be.

And it is the scales of justice calling, wondering what your balance look like.

All our lives hang in the fold.

Thank you.


Nakita Valerio is an award-winning writer, academic, and community organizer based in Edmonton, Canada. She recently completed graduate studies and work as a research assistant in History and Islamic-Jewish Studies at the University of Alberta, as well as a research fellowship on Islamophobia and anti-Semitism for The Tessellate Institute. Nakita serves her community as the Vice President of External Affairs with Alberta Muslim Public Affairs Council (AMPAC), as an advisor for the Chester Ronning Center for the Study of Religion and Public Life,  and as a member of the Executive Fundraising Board for the YIWCL Cree Women’s Camp. Nakita is the co-founder of Bassma Primary School in El Attaouia, Morocco and is currently working on a graphic novel memoir weaving her experiences abroad with her community work and research.

Photography: Lindsey Catherine Photos & Media

Video: Radical Citizen Media

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In “Collective Memory and Cultural Identity”, Jan Assmann explores the work of Maurice Halbwachs on social memory – marking a difference between communicative and collective memory that is often collapsed in the Halbwachs school of thought but is valuable for illuminating how things go from states of liminality to social aggregation.

Communicative memory, for Assmann, involves everyday communication that takes place within specific domestic confines. In other words, it is characterized by shared memories and experiences of a small, close-knit group and is generally disorganized and formless.[1] These are memories that are still socially mediated and relational to the group but on a very small scale with little relevance to the larger social context. The group is comprised of specific individuals who “conceive their unity and peculiarity through a common image of their past.” Minorities or groups excluded from mainstream or normative society tend to develop communicative memories around which to orbit in order to give their stories meaning in the greater narrative of larger society.

Various tools of communicative memory can be forged by these groups and can include the develop of unique cultural elements including linguistic or visible markers of group membership and “territorializing” memory by establishing small monuments or sacred places of significance that hold social currency only with that group. As numbers of the minority group increase, whether through an influx of their population or awareness raising, their voice tends to get louder and better able to petition the existing social order – albeit through existing channels of criticism and petitioning. Eventually, when the population gets big enough or their voice gets loud enough, parts of their communicative memories (or self-prescribed identities) might make their way past liminality or peripheral social positions to be included in the greater collective memory.

According to Assmann, while communicative memory is characterized by its proximity to the everyday, collective memory is similarly construed by its distance from the everyday.[2] Points of collective memory become figures or sites of memory around which culture starts to revolve as they acquire “mnemonic energy.” This results in the crystallization of individual or group communicative memory and brings with it the following characteristics: the concretion of identity, the capacity to reconstruct the contemporary situation, transmission in the culturally institutionalized heritage of a society, organization and formalization, the creation of obligations and normative values or roles, and reflexivity.[3]

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What is important to note for our purposes is that the internet has become a vehicle for connecting liminal, minority groups – for communicative memories to develop in peripheral forums and for connections to be made across geographically disparate spaces. What we are seeing is a dramatic increase in critical awareness for a variety of minority issues – and a territorializing of these groups’ memories on an exponential basis daily. The result is an influx of posts, videos and pages devoted to the causes of those marginalized in regular society. Almost immediately, people in positions of privilege have criticized these movements as minorities being overly-sensitive, rolling their eyes at the proliferation of trigger warnings, or jumping to defend those who have been brought to justice by bringing their injustices to light online. What these individuals don’t realize is three-fold:

  1. These oppressed people have always been around you. They just have a larger collectivity now because of the internet and their voice is much louder because of the heavy use and reliance on this technology today.
  2. Oppressed people who cannot find justice in their everyday lives will use every means at their disposal – outside of the collectively prescribed methods – to achieve their justice.
  3. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen. Challenging the arbitrarily-legitimate and hegemonic-heteronormative social order is what the internet does best. If you don’t like the sound of rallying cries from all directions of oppressed society – you’re probably part of the problem.

To those issuing the calls-to-action in the name of justice for those held down by oppressive society, know this: the only thing you need to keep in mind is that those who challenge the order run the risk of becoming the order. When a communicative memory is aggregated into the collective, a major disconnect starts to happen: those originally involved in the creation of small groups of meaning in the greater societal ocean, tend to have their stories lost in the mix. In On the Uses and Abuses of History, Nietzsche examines the monumental method of history (ie. When something is aggregated into collective memory) and notes that in monumentalization, the group conducting it is concerned more with cohesion while keeping a heroic vision of civilization across temporal boundaries. The items that a monument brings together are largely unrelated and end up being overgeneralized to the point that “reality” is violated. Nietzsche argues that “history” then suffers. In my construction and understanding, the term “communicative memory” or individuals and individual sites of memory can replace “history” and serve Nietzsche’s point much better. When memory becomes collective and crystallized (particularly in the form of a nationally-endorsed monument), it will necessarily be corruptive of the communicative memor(ies) which originally informed it.

When the oppressed finally achieve recognition, their communicative, everyday memories tend to be distorted in the name of their collectivity, which ultimately has little need for the individuals in this new memory form. This raises further questions about the meaning and even the possibility of true social aggregation, meditations on which will have to be left for another time. For now, keep wailing that hammer.

[1] Assmann, Jan and John Czaplicka “Collective Memory and Cultural Identity,” in New German Critique, Vol. 65, Spring – Summer 1995, p.126-127.

[2] Ibid, p.129.

[3] Ibid, p.129-132. It should be noted that reflexivity here refers to three primary types, including practice-reflexivity (the interpretation of common practice through rituals, proverbs etc), self-reflexivity (in that a collective memory draws on itself to explain and interpret) and reflexivity of its own image (in that it reflects the self-image of the group through a preoccupation with its entire social system).