About I SEE YOU — For English Readers

“I see you” is one of my favorite English phrases. When it’s used to acknowledge someone, it conveys a multitude of messages and feelings: I relate to you. I understand you. I see your joy. I see your pain. I like your style and swag. I’m glad that you’re here. It almost feels like, the moment I say it, an invisible bridge is built at lightning speed between myself and the person in front of me. It’s such a powerful phrase to connect with others, which I unfortunately don’t have in my mother tongue, Japanese.

My first winter in Canada was the toughest one in my life. I moved to Toronto from Japan in the fall of 2021, a month before the omicron wave hit the city and shut down all the potential socializing opportunities. The brutal coldness outside gave me another heavy blow. At that time I had a couple of friends in the neighborhood who always checked in on me and kindly took me out for a walk, but other than that I was stuck at home most of the time, feeling depressed and isolated. Sometimes I felt as if I were a ghost walking around in the house with no one to see me.

What eventually saved me from this dark place was a BIPOC-centred sharing circle hosted by Toronto Council Fire Native Cultural Centre, which I came across in one of my desperate online searches to find a community. This weekly online gathering gave me an opportunity to connect with other people living in the city and also be vulnerable in front of them. Carefully facilitated, the sharing circle welcomed and validated any stories, experiences, or emotions shared by the participants, even negative and heartbreaking ones. Everybody was keen on listening to each other, and I was able to share my loneliness and anxiety as a newcomer speaking sloppy English or the suffocating feeling that I held in Japan as a queer person. At these moments I could finally feel that I was seen and heard—that I actually existed in the city.

The sharing circle was also a space where I learned about the unique experiences of the other members, often marginalized in Canadian society in one way or another, and their incredible strength, creativity, and capacity for love. Beginning with this experience, I dived into the beautifully knitted BIPOC communities in Toronto. What made me so happy was the presence of my fellow 2SLGBTQ+ folks in these spaces. Although some spaces remain hostile or unsafe to us, I also have seen a lot of intersecting and blending of different identities. Growing up in a homophobic and transphobic society, I found it liberating to see other folks like me thriving in these spaces that were not necessarily 2SLGBTQ+-centred.

What also struck me was that people I met in these communities often had their own ways to acknowledge other people. It could be a warm hug, or a fist bump, or sharing tobacco leaves, or giving a little compliment about an outfit, or asking about a family’s situation, or… just countless ways to show “I see your existence.” Gradually, I began seeing the act of acknowledging each other as the very basis of these communities, an attitude which I believe was invented or strengthened to uplift each other and survive in the brutal storm of racism and colonialism.

Being acknowledged could be vital to one’s life sometimes. One time, when I was waiting for a bus with my partner at Kennedy station in Scarborough, we saw a middle-aged Black lady waiting for another bus. At one point our eyes met, and my partner gave her a small nod as he usually does to strangers. She walked to us and said,

“Thank you for noticing me. I just came to Canada recently, and nobody knows me here, so I was feeling like I was invisible. You saw me, and you made my day.”

Hearing the conversation between my partner and the lady, who was from Barbados, I was quietly overwhelmed with the impact brought by such a small gesture. Also, her feeling was totally relatable because I went through the same situation. This event made me start thinking about the power and importance of acknowledgement, especially in this cold, capitalist-driven city, where most of us are just expected to keep grinding to secure our housing and afford expensive groceries.

That thought eventually led to this project, I SEE YOU. I invited six friends of mine whom I met in Toronto’s BIPOC communities and whose dedication to the community I deeply respect, and asked them to share their experiences and ideas about acknowledgement. First we had a sharing circle and asked each other a series of questions: When do you feel seen/unseen? How does it make you feel? How do you step back into your power during times of hardship or loneliness? Shared amongst the group were plenty of episodes about being “unseen”, ranging from ignored to misunderstood, and also great suggestions on how we can “see” each other and also ourselves. We also discussed the fear that could occur when we allow ourselves to be “seen”. After the sharing circle, which was full of laughter and pensive reflection, I asked them to write a piece—any kind—that reflects our dialogue. Some chose to write a poem, some chose an essay, and others chose a dialogue style, each exploring the meaning of acknowledgement in their unique way. These texts are published with their portrait pictures by Kate Dalton, who sat down and had a heartfelt dialogue with everyone to bring out their beauty and best self.

The texts are also translated into Japanese and shared with the audience in Japan, with funding and support from Kyoto Seika University. This has a great meaning to me because I have wanted to share with my own people the beauty of Toronto’s BIPOC communities and the power of acknowledgement that I found on this land. Back in Japan, especially when I lived in Tokyo, I was following the social norm that encouraged us to avoid seeing others directly and pretend that they don’t exist. The norm built to minimize conflicts and make the smoothest operation possible. Now I’m realizing that, by following the unwritten rule, I was making other people, and even myself, less and less visible. I have just begun thinking how I could translate “I see you” into Japanese, not only its meaning but also the attitude in it.

I’m hoping that this project will encourage you to remember your existence and the strength in you, which you may have forgotten, and start “seeing” yourself and people right next to you.

©Kate Dalton

About the Author

Morinobu Yoshida

Born in Kawasaki, Japan, Morinobu is a freelance editor and big foodie based in Toronto. Having lived a marginalized life as a queer, his interest as an editor lies in community building and empowerment through publishing. He has collaborated with various marginalized groups including sex workers, female cultural workers, and Zainichi Korean women and other immigrant women in Japan. He has finished the Publishing Certificate Program at Toronto Metropolitan University and won the Robert Weaver Award for Editorial Excellence 2023. Currently he is learning foreign rights management to pursue his dream to promote the global exchange of cultures and ideas through books. Feel free to connect with him on Instagram @nobu_warabee

About the Photographer

Kate Dalton

Photography is a vehicle for Kate’s communication and connection. Kate has lived and worked in Toronto Canada for the last decade and originates from the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation. They earned a Diploma in Creative Photography and trained with professionals, concentrating on still photography. She has worked as a professional photographer for eight years, specializing in Theatre and Indigenous Events. She is presently working towards a BFA at OCAD University and continues to explore visual mediums while working as a part-time artist.

(Copyedited by Ashendri Picon)

Project Staff

Editor/Translator: Morinobu Yoshida
Photographer: Kate Dalton
Sharing Circle Facilitator: Farah Talaat
Copyeditor: Ashendri Picon
Translation Supervisor: Mana Sato
Author: Zachariah Highgate / Bashiyr Abdullah Muhammad Douglas a.k.a Snefer Sena Hotep / Farah Talaat / Jainesh Raj Bali / Jacqueline Chia / Hannia Cheng
Project Advisor: Sachiko Uchiyama
Special thanks to Yufu Taniguchi, Kaoru Matsumoto, and Sohei Yamada