Looking back at a time that I saw myself in a particular class isn’t very difficult as I am reminded every time I board a plane. Each time I’ve ever flown to a certain destination, especially the two trips that I had taken overseas, I’ve flown in the middle class. We were obviously taking a flight in which we were to sleep for a duration of the time and I’m not the type of person who sleeps comfortably unless it’s in a bed or a comfy couch, so I had not slept much and probably slept at longest length for about an hour and a half. I then continued to take mini naps consisting of 20 minutes to half an hour before I was uncomfortable and awake once again. During this time, the curtains were open, exposing those of first class and something came to my attention. Most of the flight attendants were in first-class slightly waking up each person and asking them if they’d like anything whereas there was no one waking up the middle class to ask them if they’d want anything.

Reflecting on that of our privilege walk, it came to me the realization of how different each of us was although I had already come to understand this. The concept in retrospect for me was eye-opening in terms of realizing the skeletons each of my classmates were hiding and my observation of those who acted the way they did. Some people keep quiet, some people talk excessive amounts, some people only touch on topics associated with past or present experiences that they’ve had, all affecting who they are today. Although it might not seem like it, the privilege walk didn’t change the way I think of anyone based on income, divorce, more privilege than myself, etc, because I didn’t see myself as any less or underprivileged that anyone and I didn’t and still don’t feel above anyone. Something that stood out to me was the exposure that had been released by each of us and the vulnerability that we had put ourselves out to either in fear or in confidence.

As a child, I unwillingly was surrounded by a mass number of girls. Yes, you may think “Wow! As a male, that should be your hopes and dreams,” but it wasn’t by choice. I grew up with an older sister, four years older to be exact, that had friends who were girls. Inviting them over constantly made it almost claustrophobic for me. They’d call me cute, and not in a good way, and touch my face much like a grandma would and that’s not even the worst part. Other than my father, who was always on the road working, I was never exposed to the life of a male party and because of this, I suffered the consequences. Consequences being that I became the test dummy for dress-up, make-up and you guessed it, the role of the baby in every single game of house. I was bombarded by princess dresses, hairpins, pigtails, glittered eyeshadows and much more. All of this being against the code of masculinity in the years from 2001-2006. After many makeovers and many more pictures later, I started school and the trend of brother testing soon ended, but I was still bombarded by girls, who, because of the constant humiliation, I didn’t fancy with very much. Fergie, Ashley Tisdale, and the Cheetah Girls soon became favorites of mine and as a started school, I realized that none of the things I enjoyed were common to the other boys around me, the reason being that they weren’t “harassed” and/ or exposed to the exterminates of femininity that I did. This was the point in my life where I knew myself as gendered and rapidly began to change as I felt that I had to, but not only that, I could and wanted to. Today, I still see parts of my life and aspects in which I looked at, like my taste in music, which at times confuses me because I listen to multiple genres. On many occasions and when I say many, I literally mean more than I should, I have been questioned on my sexuality and I think that is accounted for growing up with girls, but that might also be something that I’ve created about in my head. Sometimes it bothers me, but with how often it happens, I’ve gotten used to it. As my life goes on, and society slowly adapts to changes, I can see myself as gendered but am also confused on topics of gender because people identify as more than the two genders, male and female. In all, I think that my gender was never questioned and was also never confusing to me even at times like my encounter with other younger boys. I can identify change as I get older from myself then to myself now and I don’t think that I would change anything being that it made me into the person I am writing this blog.

My earliest memory in which racial differences was noticeable was in grade two when my school transferred because it was being shut down. Within the following year, I was exposed to different colored skin students, one being in my class. Odessa had a school in which the total number of students and staff combined was 54. Shutting it down meant we were to transfer to a neighboring school 10 minutes west towards Regina. At this time, I didn’t know what was happening but knew I wouldn’t be attending Odessa School anymore. During my time at Odessa School, I was exposed only to three Native kids, but never seen them as the color of their skin, especially being surrounded by nothing but white folk.

I don’t think that there was ever a point in which I realized my body was racialized because of the fact that I’m white and never experienced any racial discrimination. I think after reading the prompts for this blog was the only time that I realized that I was racialized without actually being racialized.

Home to me is not a place, but a feeling in which I can take with me anywhere. Home to me is warm and loving and humble to the life that I live and cherish. I consider my home to be anywhere that my family is, whether it be at our house in a small town, Vibank, Saskatchewan or up north in a dusty, old cabin. My home is my Mom, Raeleen, my Dad, Mike, my three sisters (two being stepsisters), Brett, Kendra, and Kayleigh. My home is my favorite sport, broomball while playing against teams from across Canada. My home is fishing up north even if it is raining the whole time and we don’t catch any fish. Home is flying overseas to a different country to explore a culture that I have never seen before with my best friends. All of these things make me comfortable and humble to a point where I forget where home is and come to the realization that home is everywhere I make it. My home consists of small towns, backroads, bush parties, hockey games and tractor-pulls where I spend more money than I make. I think of home as a sensational warmth where I am connected to myself and the things/people around me. My home is wherever I am and that’s all it will ever be.

My home is having my immediate family and more surrounding me, laughing, drinking, and enjoying our time together as if it were our last and making sure that we were all joyful of our time. Every Christmas it is a tradition on my mother’s side that we do not buy presents as a family but spend time with one another before the holiday where things become busy for everyone. This time spent with one another could be bowling and then a have a fire and make homemade doughnuts, swimming at Prairie Oasis in Moose Jaw and then sleeping in the cabins and making homemade doughnuts on the stove top or sledding behind a pickup truck when it’s forty below and coming inside to play board games and make doughnuts on the stove. It’s safe to say that every time we make sure to make doughnuts. Home is the most important attribute in my life being that if I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t know what to make of my life or that I wouldn’t be who I am today. Home has influenced me in ways such as my learning ability, my future career in teaching, wanting my own family, the urge to travel anywhere and everywhere or simply just to wake up and be happy even if it is a Monday. My actual home was never an enjoyable time for me being that my parents would always fight, and no one got along. Yelling became an issue and I isolated myself from my family. Although this was the case and my parents eventually divorced, they live somewhat and if not happy lives apart from one another which my sister (Brett) and I have come to terms to be happy with. While this was the case, I wouldn’t have changed anything being that my mom is happily married, and my dad is in a relationship with a woman he’s very happy with. All of this shaped me into the person I am today, to blog about my family history and the sentiment that I call home.

When I was a kid I can remember all the way back to my fifth birthday which I will forever remember as the best birthday I have ever had (which says a lot because I’m only nineteen and have my whole life ahead of me). I can remember that it was in the backyard of the first house I lived in and the backyard was not the biggest and held a long, tall hedge on one side and a small picketed fence with a gigantic tree on the other side. As people started to stroll in, my mind went otherwise because more people were showing up than both myself and my parents anticipated. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, family friends, my friends, neighbors, and before we knew it most of the town of Odessa was in our backyard celebrating me even if they weren’t actually there to do so. The best part about this experience was that at age five, one would usually worry about presents, but I was too overwhelmed and excited that so many people had come to see me and my family in celebration of my fifth birthday. To make things even better, someone thought that it would be an even better party if it turned into a water party with one-hundred people fully clothed and unaware of it all. A huge water fight broke out and sooner than later every single person other than the older relatives were soaked, fully clothed head to toe. To make it even more memorable, we pulled out three gigantic tarps turned on two hoses and poured an unopened bottle of dish soap over the tarps. One would think disaster, but I saw it as the best unplanned massive birthday surprise. Everyone from what I witnessed had a great time and to me was an unbeatable event. The point of this story was to explain to you what I feel is home. Other than the detail of it actually happening in my backyard, the number of people and fun we had made me feel a warmth in which I think could be the homiest feeling possible. The story exemplifies the most Canadian experience I could have because of the sympathy and compassion people brought to my birthday party which to me screams true Canadian. What would have made it more Canadian is if a moose ran through with an RCMP officer riding on it carrying Tim Hortons in the dead of winter, but that’s highly unlikely…or is it? After all, this is Canada, and anything is possible!