Awakening to Anti-Racism: Growing Through the Tension

As a racialised person growing up in a white world, I thought I understood racism.

And in many ways, I did. I had lived it. I had felt it. I had learned how to navigate it in ways that kept me safe, or at least, safe enough. But my real awareness didn’t begin there. It began when I started to consciously try to be anti-racist.

That’s when everything shifted.

It wasn’t one defining moment. It was a series of conversations, experiences, and reflections that made me see more clearly. Not just what was happening around me, but what was happening within me.

I began to notice how often I had stayed quiet.

Don’t rock the boat.

Don’t say anything.

Maybe they didn’t mean it like that.

Maybe it’s in your head.

Those thoughts had become normal to me. But they were never neutral. They were learned. They came from years of navigating spaces where being accepted often meant silencing parts of myself.

My awakening has been about unlearning that silence.

I’ve had to find my voice, even when it feels uncomfortable. I’ve had to let go of the need to always be seen as “nice” and instead focus on being honest. Not rushing to call people out or in, but trying to understand, while also being clear when something is not okay.

I’ve learned that it is okay to say, “you have hurt me.”

And that has been a powerful shift.

Growing Roots: Where It All Begins

When I think about this journey, I see it like a tree.

My roots are my lived experience. They run deep. They hold the memories of racism I’ve experienced, the moments I adapted, the times I stayed silent to survive. For a long time, those roots were about holding myself steady in spaces that didn’t always feel safe.

But as my awareness grew, those same roots began to feed something new.

They grounded me in truth.

They connected me to who I am.

They reminded me that my experiences are valid, even when others question them.

The Trunk: Strength and Strain

The trunk is where I stand now.

This is where I’ve had to build strength. Where I’ve challenged the internal messages I carried for years. The ones that told me to work twice as hard, to not let things get to me, to keep pushing through no matter what.

Some of those messages helped me survive. But they didn’t help me live.

So I’ve had to let them go.

Standing in that truth has not been easy. The trunk carries weight. It holds the pressure of speaking up, of naming harm, of choosing honesty over comfort.

And it also carries the marks of this work. The moments where I’ve felt burnt out. The times I’ve been knocked by it. The emotional toll that comes with constantly navigating systems that are not always built to hold you.

The Branches: Where Tension Lives

My branches are the spaces I move through.

The co-production spaces. The systems. The conversations about inclusion that don’t always reflect inclusion in practice.

This is where I feel the tension most.

The tension between wanting to create change and feeling exhausted.

The tension between showing up for others and protecting my own energy.

The tension between systems and lived experience.

There are moments where those branches feel strong, where I can see growth and possibility. And there are moments where they feel fragile, where the gap between words and action is too wide to ignore.

But I’ve learned that tension is not something to run from.

It is something to listen to.

It tells me where things are not aligned. It pushes me to ask questions. It reminds me that this work is not meant to be comfortable.

The Leaves: Joy, Faith, and Care

And then there are the leaves.

The leaves are the small but powerful things that keep me going.

Faith. Creativity. Joy. Connection.

Sometimes they are easy to find. Other times, I have to really look for them.

But they matter.

They are what allow me to breathe in this work. They are what remind me why I do it. They are what bring light, even when things feel heavy.

I come back to simple truths:

I matter because I am important.

Anti-racism matters because it is important.

People matter because they are important.

These are not just affirmations. They are anchors.

Seasons of Growth and Rest

What I am learning, still, is that this journey is not just about constant growth.

Even trees need seasons.

There are times to grow.

And there are times to rest.

For a long time, I thought I had to keep going no matter what. Push through the exhaustion. Keep showing up. Keep giving.

But that came at a cost.

Now I am learning that rest is part of the work.

That nurturing myself is part of the work.

That leaning on peers and community is part of the work.

That kindness, especially to myself, is part of the work.

Because without that, this cannot be sustained.

Still Growing

My awakening to anti-racism is ongoing.

I am still learning. Still unlearning. Still growing.

But I am no longer rooted in silence.

I am no longer ignoring what I feel.

I am no longer pretending things are okay when they are not.

I am choosing to speak.

I am choosing to feel.

I am choosing to create spaces that are honest, human, and rooted in care.

Like a tree, I am still becoming.

Still rooted.

Still reaching.

Still growing through the tension.

‍

About Isaac

Isaac Samuels is someone who cares deeply about people, community and creating positive change. Drawing on his own life experiences, he is passionate about bringing people together, listening deeply and helping create spaces where everyone feels valued, heard and included.

‍