Lock the doors. Get straight home. I live in fear because of hate crimes committed against others

This First Person article is written by Reem Elawad, an Edmonton high school student. Her story is part of Black on the Prairies, a CBC collection of articles, essays, images and more exploring Black life in Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.

My dad needed to do some last-minute errands at Shoppers and had left me and my siblings waiting alone in the car.

It wasn't anything out of the blue — in fact it had happened thousands of times before —  except this time it was different. I was different. 

Typically my brother would be relentlessly asking to play games on my phone, since he knew the answer would be yes if he persisted long enough. My sisters would be chatting, and I would often be daydreaming or just trying to sleep.

But this day, I was racing to make sure all the doors were locked and that the windows were only open a crack. Even after taking all these safety precautions, I still wasn't satisfied, so I blurted out a request to my twin sister.

"You know, you should sit in the driver's seat. In case someone comes."

We were 15 at the time and hadn't got our learner's permits yet. Correction. We were nowhere near ready to get our learners. But to my relief, she dutifully sat behind the wheel ready to drive us away as I eyed the outside world, suspicious that every person passing by was someone who would harm us. Someone who thought we were lesser because of our skin colour and hijab. 

After all, it had happened before. Just not to me.

On Dec. 8, 2020, two Black hijabis, a mother and her daughter, were sitting in their parked car outside an Edmonton shopping centre when they were assaulted in an unprovoked, racist attack.

The man punched the passenger side window and shattered it, tore off the mother's hijab and chased the daughter. It was the start of a string of attacks on Black and Muslim women in the city. 

I was not there. I wasn't a witness, but I was still affected. 

Before those attacks in 2020, one of my favourite hobbies used to be walking in the neighbourhood with my sisters and brother. Idle chit-chat would fill the air as we strolled. Stray cats would cross our path, an occasional dog would scare us out of our wits, but they were all things to laugh about as we enjoyed the escape from schoolwork. 

Then in June 2021, almost exactly six months after the first attack in Edmonton, a man in London, Ont., rammed his truck into a family of five who were out for a walk. The violent act, described as a premeditated crime motivated by anti-Muslim hate, killed everyone except a nine-year-old child. 

After that, I was no longer allowed to stay after school to hang out with my friends. My mother wanted me straight home, putting an end to basketball, soccer and trips to the Circle K, because what if some other racist took inspiration from what happened in London.