In Racists have never seen the sea, Rodney Saint-Éloi and Yara El-Ghadban refuse miracle solutions, but offer several remedies. In this river-book, which is in the epistolary genre, the initiatory narrative, literary criticism, historical commentary and political pamphlet, Rodney Saint-Éloi and Yara El-Ghadban draw up an exhaustive portrait of the manifestations of racism. However, they take care to preserve a space for dreams and for a certain art of living, considered here as intimate ramparts against the attacks suffered on a daily basis.
Starting from the idea of a glossary – or rather of an anti-glossary – where each word would be turned over to show the reverse, the authors weave with four hands stories which hollow out the meaning of universal words like “sea” , “Border” and “passage”, but also words frequently pronounced in recent years, such as “ally” and “diversity”. “We invent a word to find a solution, without considering that it is perhaps fear that is the problem, and not diversity,” writes Yara El-Ghadban.
Through the words and the stories they discuss, the unspoken systems that breed violence emerge: on the basis of names (“ […] names in “ius” [comme Exélius] do not pass in the company, that makes too peasant ”), by the legal denial of the existence of a territory (“ I do not see Palestine in the list of countries. You mean Israel? ”), or by the denigration of certain accents, certain bodies, etc. Invisible systems since those who escape this violence sometimes struggle to recognize them.
Hence the need to tell. Telling against official silence, but also because the stories are woven from dreams. Literature is the tool of dreams, the first stone of its realization in reality. Thus, the words of Aimé Césaire, Mahmoud Darwich, Toni Morrison, Gaston Miron and Thousand and one Night circulate in the book like so many portents of a world where we will live better.
Although they have chosen to write this book together, the authors do not speak with the same voice. For example, for Rodney Saint-Éloi, a Creole speaker, the French language learned at school is associated with the early harnessing of expression, with the sweeping under the carpet of the world of sensations associated with childhood.
In contrast, for Yara El-Ghadban, who first learned Arabic and English, French symbolizes the emancipation of the inheritance received, the opportunity to be born to herself by means that ‘she chose. “21% of Montrealers juggle three languages. The tension between English and French misses a more complex reality and invites us to consider other issues […]. Can we consider other relationships to language than identity? She writes.
After reading, has racism been given a clear definition, sending us back to sleep soundly? As a remedy, the authors recommend instead to fully embrace “[…]the dizziness that seizes [soi] assoon as [l’on] take a step towards the other ”. So can we put aside the assigned roles and ready-made ideas.