As Black History Month is almost over, I thought of no other great story I could tell of a change maker than my dad.
Hubert Mills is just one of many Catalyst change makers who, in their own way were change makers for their generation, an example for generations coming up behind them.
Many like Dad may have not had the accolades, press clippings etc that others did but if they didn't live the lives that they did, our communities would have not been the same.
It is fitting that this Forward Friday, February 28th comes out on the 17th anniversary of his passing so it is fitting to speak of some of his catalyst behavior because it really matters.
Here's part of his story.
Dad was born in Bermuda in 1917. He was one of 6 brothers and sisters. Dad was an avid gardener, became a carpenter by trade but his greatest love and dream was to be a preacher. His mentor, Elder Thomas was a gifted preacher and taught dad strong morals and a love for people.
That dream was then the drive which propelled him to leave the Island in 1949 to go to school in Toronto, Ontario to Bible College.
Despite dealing with some discriminatory behaviors growing up in Bermuda, Hubert learned quickly that not everyone was excited about his dream as he was even if they didn't know what that dream was.
After living at a rooming house for a few months after arriving, it was time to find an apartment. He replied to an ad in the newspaper and visited an apartment.
The owner told him that it had been rented.
Hubert went back to the rooming house, thinking he read the ad wrong. He called again and was told the apartment was free. Hubert went back and was told again that it was rented.
He then told the owner that he was living his life in the light of eternity. in other words, you better be aware of the choices you are making.
Undeterred, Hubert found an apartment.
Dad was very wise in telling and teaching my brother and I that not every action was racist or discriminatory and that not every person that didn't look like us were going to treat us badly.
He would use stories to bear that thought progression out.
So, a week after the apartment incident, dad was going to school and when he stepped on to the trolley car, he put in his last ticket.
He had no idea how he was going to get home.
About 2 streets down, the trolley conductor stopped the trolley and started walking back towards the back.
The symbolism of the scenario is priceless: even in Canada, black people still had the expectation (while not mandated) in that period of time to be sitting at the rear of the trolley/bus so as the conductor is walking straight towards dad, he starts to get nervous;
What did I do wrong? Is he kicking me off the trolley?
The conductor had tears in his eyes and said, "I don't know why I have to do this but here".
He handed dad 3 books of car tickets. That was 144 tickets; over 3 months of traveling taken care of for a struggling student.
The lesson; we must treat people as we find them and not what we think they could be like....
Hubert married my mom who was half American, half French Canadian. That alone in 1953 would cause consternation, looks, murmuring, "slight" comments but he followed his heart, his mind and his decision to 49 years of an incredible union.
It wasn't easy but dad would stand by his convictions.
Even their entry into Bermuda life after moving from Montreal was not without it's own pressures.
One thing that I learned from my dad was/is that racism is not reserved to only one side of the coin so to speak, thus the reasoning of the coin.
My mother faced overt and covert racism when my parents were making their home there from the many Islanders who were upset that dad didn't "Marry" one of "theirs" and that mom was fair skinned.
But my dad encouraged my mom that he chose her and there was nothing that anyone could do about it so they would not be twisted by someone else's narrative but strengthen their bonds and seek ways to be kind "without" being trampled on by those that disagreed.
When they moved to Montreal in the early 1960's after my grandfather passed away, they faced an uncertain future as the plan was not to stay after the funeral but became the reality.
Dad taught us not to expect hand outs or that we just complain about whatever situation we would face; it was our responsibility to do something to work towards positive change.
With very little, they started a new life with challenges and obstacles but they were leaving a positive impression from the very start of their Montreal experience.
Because, the neighborhood, comprised of Italians, Ukrainians, French and English Quebecois joined together to help them get started. Dressers, couch, kitchen table etc were brought over to their flat and the village made the outsiders feel like they belonged on the inside.
The village made the outsiders feel like they belonged on the inside.
They were not always free of the dirty comments, stares, looks but dad would always balance the good with the bad.
Dad would use his carpentry skills to find a job in the hospital, slowly moving to become an orderly, a union executive and being part of the maintenance lead team for the last 10 years of his working life at the hospital.
Dad was not limited to serving his community by way of only working and paying taxes.
Dad would very often speak on weekends at different churches, weekend getaways, interests in our community where it regarded young people. he was active in the baseball and hockey communities.
Dad would never tell a negative story with out a balancing positive one to continually reinforce the treatment of people as we found them and not what we thought we would find.
Dad taught us how to think wisely and the lessons were endless.
Ones that jump out:
One day when I was 8 or 9 yrs old, I was about to go out to play and dad called me back and said, "Son, you are only to answer to Dave, David or Mills; nothing else". I said OK but then he doubled down and said it again but with added force and resolve.
"Son, you are only to answer to Dave, David or Mills; nothing else"
I went away thinking alright, Dad's wants me to make sure I don't forget my name.
What he actually was doing was prepping my ears and mind to know who I was and who I was not, that I did not have to react and avenge anyone who tried to belittle me, call me insulting and inflammatory names because they were not and still are not me.
When I was about 13 years old, one summer afternoon on the porch, dad started explaining in detail what he knew I couldn't understand when I was 9.
That people would use all sorts of ugly names and terms but he explained that my name was Dave, David or Mills. You don't answer to what you are not.
He explained the meaning behind words, especially the race baiting words and how they were not us and why they didn't apply.
So freeing to not personally be enslaved to what we were not!
Last spring, I did a whole module of teaching on race and in the studying and prepping, many things dad taught me on that porch in the early 70's were in the books and articles I was reading.
Amazing!!
Interestingly enough, one day on the bus, a man called dad the "N" word. My dad quickly said to the man as he put his arm on the man's shoulder,
"Well, I suppose you are my "N" brother!" He went on to tell the man that if he knew what the word actually meant, based on the definition, anyone of any race of any color could be one.
The bus was pretty silent for a while. I think over time, I've come to realize that the silence was because the power of dad's proclamation was hitting the minds of those on the bus who witnessed the moment and were processing.
Dad was also a master at helping us see that not everything that happens to us is racist and we should not be looking under every rock to see injustice as it is a time killer. Not that we were not to confront discrimination when it rears itself but it was in the how that mattered and still matters.
I remember when I was working at a department store years ago and over the course of 2 years, I had been in line for 3 supervisors positions.
I didn't get any of the 3 and while disappointing, I never looked at any of the 3 situations as racist or discriminatory.
Funny, my work compatriots saw blatant racism and ignoring of my abilities to run these departments, but when talking with my dad about them, we both agreed that other things were at work in each situation.
Dad would always say that there was something better to come; to stay patient and not pout.
In the 20-20 vision of it all looking back, those 3 near misses were god-sends. My life path would not have taken me on the roads I've traveled had I been promoted even once in that window of time.
The wisdom to see a little deeper and not react, demand or create a problem where one did not exist before was a skill dad honed over time.
There was another bus moment that still marks me today:
We were on the bus going downtown and were sitting across from another family with a little girl who was about our age of 8 or 9 years old.
At one point, the girl said to her mom, "Mommy, those boys are dirty!"
At one point, the girl said to her mom, "Mommy, those boys are dirty!"
My dad got up from his seat and walked over to the girl, knelt down on one knee, took her hand in his and said, "Little girl, let me tell you something. My boys take a bath every night and are as clean as you are. The color on their skin is not dirt; it's their pigmentation. That why we use Dial soap to wash, we use Tide soap for the clothes. the only thing soap can't clean is sin."
He then took a wrapped candy out of his pocket and gave it to the girl and came back and sat down.
I remember how quiet that part of the bus was and again, it was only later on as I got older how the genius of my dad was to give every adult on the bus including her parents an object lesson on race relations. The only thing that was for the girl at that moment was we weren't dirty and a candy.
The only thing that was for the girl at that moment was we weren't dirty and a candy.
Dad was a trailblazer in being a black preacher in our denomination. It was not common place; (in the black community, this was not the case) and even though dad never pastored his own church, it had left an impression on me to follow in his footsteps as well as other young men who he took an interest in helping and encouraging them to follow their dreams.
It was interesting to receive a message from a young man who was in a coffee shop with another young man I had mentored in the past.
In the course of the conversation, Daniel said that the reason why he followed his dream to become a pastor was seeing me in my various roles as a minister and realized that he could see his dream come true.
The other young man said the same and as I was thinking about this post, it was actually dad who created the synergy because I followed him and now there is the potential for other black young men and women in Canada who are looking at those 2 men and thinking that they can see their dreams come true.
What if he didn't get on the plane in 1949?
I've come to see how dad would, with incredible skill wisely combat discrimination and racism but also have the comprehension to not be triggered by things that were not in that category.
Dad would not accept anything but our best in school. He would often say that skin color has no stick in the fire when it comes to effort and performance in our scholastic studies.
He would not say victim but if he were alive today, in his lexicon of words, he would say to a young black son that hand outs do nothing but breed the idea that we are owed when in fact, we must put in the work and time to succeed.
He embodied an industrious work and thinking ethic.
If something is not working, try something else; do not allow someone else's low or uninformed opinion of us dictate how we act, how we think, how we function.
He liked baseball so he would use picture commentary to get across his ideas. Like, "keep swinging; you may not always hit home runs but if you keep stringing singles, doubles and triples together, runs (wins in life) will begin to cross the plate."
Finally, I think to encapsulate why I believe Hubert Mills is worthy of being a catalyst change maker like many other black trailblazers even though they did not grace the pages of publications or TV but their collective ripples have made many areas of the communities they thrived in better is this:
Dad had codes for living and the one that I often think about is:
Dad would say when the going was rough in many facets of his life but especially living as a black man in Canada and especially Quebec at a time when warped and ignorant thinking would rear itself and cause any good man or woman to question and shake in their boots a little.
Dad's Nugget or Pearl....
"People will often swear at you and you cannot stop that but If you can hold true to your convictions, sooner or later they will swear by you!"
17 years ago, we had to say goodbye but the life of Hubert Mills still resonates in the corridors of time!
He was and still is a Catalyst Change for all seasons and not just Black History but for History itself and Canada and anyone who encountered the iconic Hubert Mills is better off for his contribution!
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