What's up, freaks and weirdoes? The name is Melanie Robillard, and I'm a young biracial woman living in the City of Gatineau, Quebec. It's a tough commute to my school but rent is cheaper in Gatineau than in nearby Ottawa. I was born in the City of Montreal to a Haitian immigrant father and a white Canadian mother. Six feet tall, athletic, with light brown skin, long black hair and lime-green eyes, that's me in a nutshell. I have a story to share with you, my friends. In this world of racial politics and identity issues, it's not easy being a mixed-race chick. If, like me, you also happen to a lesbian, it doesn't make for an easy life.
The way I see it, I don't owe anyone any explanations as far as my life goes. I am half black and half white, and I am also a lesbian. A dyke. A full-fledged member of Team Lesbos. A woman who loves women. The first person I told was my father, Joel Robillard. Tall, dark-skinned, burly and roughly handsome, my father is the epitome of a strong Haitian man. My father supported me while my Catholic mother Michelle Tremblay definitely did not. My mother told me being a lesbian is a sin while my father promised me his undying support. Isn't that a frigging hoot?
When my pops moved to Quebec from his hometown of Cap-Haitien, Republic of Haiti, Canada wasn't yet the diverse place that it is today. My father told me about the hell he went through, first at the University of Montreal as a student, then as a rookie cop with the Montreal Police Service. The French Canadians in particular were quite racist toward people of color, and unlike their counterparts in provincial Ontario, Quebecers aren't prone to hiding it when they don't like you. Seriously, there's a reason where Montreal is so often the site of racial riots and clashes between different ethnic groups. It's the land of hot-blooded and hot-tempered people, of all hues.
The thing about Quebecers is that they really ought to know that messing with the Haitian people never turns out well for anyone of French descent. My father taught me the history of the island of Haiti, the land of our ancestors. In 1804, the black men and black women living on the island of Haiti declared themselves an independent nation after defeating and subsequently slaughtering the French colonial forces sent to deal with them after they broke the chains of slavery and colonialism. I've got Haitian DNA, and I refuse to believe that racist white people are invincible. Yes, I'm a queer woman of color. Got a problem with that?
Anyhow, I study business administration at Carleton University, and I like the place okay. Lots of people from all over. Somalis. Arabs. Brazilians. Mexicans. Nigerians. Carleton has them all. I like the school for that reason, and the kick-ass sports teams aren't bad. I am a big supporter of the Ravens football squad. Yes, I am a lesbian who loves football. Does that surprise you? I guess I'm supposed to be one of those man-hating dykes bitching about patriarchy day in and day out. Nope, you're thinking of those white bitches from the suburbs who, although they're queer, are just as bigoted and privileged as their heterosexual counterparts. I'm a brown gal, thank you very much. I would never hate anyone simply for who they are. They have to do something to me first. Those are the rules, ladies and gentlemen.
