Two recent stories show that hurt sentiments are the privilege of a few

This column is an opinion by Anam Zakaria, an author and freelance journalist based in Toronto. For more information about CBC's Opinion section, please see the FAQ.

The tension was palpable on an Alberta university campus earlier this month. 

Frances Widdowson, who was fired from Mount Royal University in 2021, was scheduled to speak at the University of Lethbridge. She has made headlines for criticizing the Black Lives Matter movement and suggesting that there were educational benefits to the residential school system. 

Widdowson was going to address students on "How 'Woke-ism' Threatens Academic Freedom," but hundreds of students and faculty members protested against her visit, resulting in the university cancelling the lecture on campus. The cancellation has led to deep worry regarding the erosion of free speech. 

The Canadian Association of University Teachers raised concerns about the university's commitment to freedom of expression while Alberta's Advanced Education Minister Demetrios Nicolaides announced that post-secondary institutions will now have to report on their efforts to "protect free speech." The argument goes that no matter how controversial or offensive an idea may be, the cornerstone of a secular and democratic society is to ensure space for its expression.

On the other side of Canada, in Quebec and within the federal government, tension is also palpable. 

Amira Elghawaby, Canada's first special representative to combat Islamophobia has, paradoxically, been called out for voicing her concerns about Islamophobia. 

In 2019, Elghawaby co-authored an opinion piece where, citing a poll, she wrote that "the majority of Quebecers appear to be swayed not by the rule of law but by anti-Muslim sentiment."

Elghawaby was expressing her apprehensions regarding Quebec's secularism law, or Bill 21, which bars certain public-sector employees such as teachers and police officers from wearing religious symbols while at work. In recent days, Elghawaby, who is yet to officially begin her role, has come under immense pressure, leading her to apologize. Calls for her to resign continue.

What do the two cases, spread across western and eastern Canada, have in common?

Ostensibly both the Widdowson and Elghawaby cases revolve around freedom of speech and the giving and taking of offence. But who their words hurt and how they are expected to respond is telling.

On one hand, we have Widdowson and her supporters who fear that wokeness and identity politics are curbing academic freedom, critical thinking and vigorous debate, and becoming, in her words, "totalitarian." In the process, the historical context and significance of the term "woke" is not only trivialized but also turned on its head; wokeness, which originally implied an awareness of racial discrimination and injustice, is now accused of stifling ideas and suffocating discourse. 

To counter these apparent threats to freedom, the expectation is that space must be given to views like those of Widdowson, regardless of how such ideas may hurt people. The way in which Widdowson's comments about residential schools may dismiss and invalidate the long legacy of physical, sexual and emotional abuse that Indigenous peoples have been subjected to must be put aside. 

In the same year that George Floyd's murder was yet again bringing to the fore the ongoing violence Black people face across North America, her comments on how Black Lives Matter had "destroyed" the university must also be put aside. This is after all in the spirit of free speech, the hallmark of a democratic and secular society.