Simply put, Aniqah is a woman on a mission to inspire. One in-person conversation with her and you get it: she cares, she craves change, she creates and now, she's hoping to (re)connect.
It started with a visit. Nothing special, mind you, but that day I left my comfort zone to embrace something that my parents would most definitely have stood completely and totally against.
It started with shyness. Well, actually, it started because I finally plucked up the courage to look the boys in the face and not whisper timidly with fear to the girl sitting beside me.
It started with a conversation. Not one barely audible in the corner of the little room, void of any electronics despite being a doctor’s office, but one-faced, head-on, with the children seated on the little doctor’s bench. You know the one I’m talking about: those faux-leather seats with the paper that the nurse replaces between each patient for fear of cross-contamination.
Quite honestly, it started with a sentence. A conversation. Deep-seated conviction stemming from someone who most would discard as a lost cause, a burden to society, a waste of a human being.
It started in a youth incarceration centre.
A youth detention centre, a place where children – yes, children – are held between court dates, before they are shipped off to even higher security facilities. Where young offenders are placed, to the dismay of the community, most as a lost cause as their crimes are blown up and their potentials are discarded in the media.
So it was understandable that my friend and I were more than a little nervous as we entered the facility, security buzzers and barbed wire and all. We buzzed into the front door, were let in, and then buzzed in again through the second door. The inside was exactly what you would expect an incarceration centre to look like – whitewashed floors, barren furniture, a vending machine that was only to be used when the youth’s families visited and could spare a dollar. However, the walls were far from bare – they were adorned with artwork made by the residents of the detention centre.
I’ve always believed that art is the window into a person’s soul, especially when you aren’t able to look into their eyes. And the paintings that decorated the main receiving area were made by children, and their youth shone out from the pieces. They were criminals, gang members, rough people – but at the essence of their being, they were children.
This notion was reaffirmed when I was sitting in the corner of the doctor’s small office, tittering quietly to the girl next to me, equal parts hoping the boys that came in would talk to me, and equal parts afraid they would do just that. But when I finally got that chance, I’m pretty sure I could pinpoint the moment when my life changed.
I spoke to one boy who stood out from all the rest, especially because he approached me; he initiated the conversation. He began by asking me where I was studying, and I asked him if he enjoyed school, as he had mentioned he wanted to go to college. I was surprised when he said no – if you don’t enjoy school, then what would you want to study? He looked at me with total conviction, and without missing a beat, replied:
“I want to become a social worker, and help children out who are in my situation, because I never want to see someone else go through what I did.”
Society has a funny way of painting everything in black and white. And we, as consumers, have a tendency not to question it: when we are told about young offenders, we never stop to think about the fact that they, too, are people – children – and are more than their past.
This individual has helped me see past the pictures the media has painted, and inspired me to work with at-risk youth and help them reach their goals. Sometimes, the only thing we need is a positive influence in our otherwise negative life in order to inspire us to be more than we imagine.
I am currently in the process of developing Project (re)connect, a program that links students at Brock with at-risk youth. No one ever said it would be easy, but just to know that I am part of something bigger and trying my best to make the world even one ounce better than the way it was when I came in is a reward in itself.
Our perception of gratitude has been so skewed: most would say gratitude is being thankful when you’re given something. It’s that feeling of happiness on Christmas morning, the feeling of being full and completely loved at the Thanksgiving dinner table. But I don’t think gratitude is being thankful for what you’ve been given. Gratitude is being able to help another, the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest when you start a ‘Pay it Forward’ trend, dish out food at a soup kitchen, or just spend time with someone who has no one else to talk to.
Gratitude is giving.
Aniqah leaving a virtual paper trail of articles, poems, posts and collected thoughts on her own blog which you can read here.
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