First cycle of secondary school

Second prize

Author: Gamé Kalivogui

School: CEA Champlain

Ink scar

I write for the child who was singled out.
At school, in the playground, alone under the weight
With a look that was too heavy, with a word that hurts
With a mocking laugh, with a filthy distress

I write for the woman who was repressed.
Because of her skin being too dark, her unloved name
«"Apply elsewhere," a forced smile
Behind rules that we don't want to name

I write for the man, tired of controls.
Always suspect in his own role
Whether he's coming home from work or going for a run
They question him without letting him live

I'm writing for my brother, who was jostled in the street
For no reason, just a poorly viewed profile
Insults hurled in the air, abrupt gestures
His only crime? Not being "one of them".«

I'm writing for my sister, headscarf in hand.
A stranger here, a stranger celebrating
She is asked where she really comes from
As if her heart wasn't beating

I write for my friend, that name we butcher.
As if it weighed down their torches
They told him "go home" without knowing
That his grandfather fell for their story

I write for the old man, bent by life
He who built everything, but whom we forget
His tongue broken, his back broken
His hands, worn by a country he had rejected

I write for myself, for my own wounds
For these heavy silences, these nights that were too harsh
For these closed doors, these cutting phrases
Those cold stares, those burning blades

I write for tomorrow, for better days.
Where our faces will no longer be afraid
Where our first names will no longer be obstacles.
Where our colors will no longer have chains

2nd cycle of secondary school

First prize

Author: Sall Saffra

School: Collège Saint-Sacrement

Black on white

I write on white paper, my words are black.,

Like the night that envelops history,

Like those shadows we bury,

Like those voices that are silenced.

I grew up surrounded by stares that were half curious, half suspicious.,

Between heavy silences, punctuated by venomous words.

They talk to me about inclusion, but the doors remain closed.

, And when I hit hard, I am accused of being too bold.

I am told: «"You're exaggerating, racism is a thing of the past."» 

But if it's hidden away, why this invented genetics again? Why is my skin a crime before a single word has even been spoken?

Why are my dreams chained under racialized ceilings?

I am judged on my skin, my hair, my voice.,

But if you scratch beneath the skin, my blood is the same color as yours.

The heart beats beneath every torso, regardless of appearance.,

So why are our lives shattered under distrustful stares?

In this world of disguised truths,

Where equality is written in broken promises,

I'm offered seats... but never a table.,

They listen to me… but never, without a doubt, anything tangible.

«"Be wise, be gentle, don't make waves,

 » But how can I remain calm when profiling swims in their souls? When I'm arrested for my skin color, not for my actions

, When my brothers fall under bullets with voices that wander?

When I apply, my name weighs heavily on the page,

An accent that's too strong, a face that you only glance at.

«"Sorry, the position has already been filled."»

 And yet, it remains empty, like their alibi.

Racism isn't just about hurling insults.,

It's a forced smile, a closed door.

It's that heavy silence in a room that's too white,

It's this awkwardness that people feel when I step forward.

It's a wary look in the brand section.,

It's a child wondering if my skin has been traced over a marker. It's a "I'm not racist, but...".

A "this is not your home", a "go back where you came from".

But where do I come from? From dark galaxies?

No, from a people who built empires without ever seeing the light of day,

From hands that have sown, built, cared for, educated,

And who, even today, are begging for the respect they deserve.

I was born in a land that saw me as a stranger,

But the air I breathe does not choose who can love it.

My voice doesn't beg, it demands its place.,

And if the door is closed, I'll break it down, I'll smash it.

I want tomorrow to be a day when we no longer count.,

Where no one will whisper "you're not like the others" which is poorly received.

I want us to stop painting walls between us.,

Let us learn to see the soul, instead of judging with a mere blurry glance.

I am not a color, I am a story.,

A shooting star that refuses to fade into darkness.

And as long as a wall stands, as long as a knee weighs,

I will engrave my cry on every page I am given.

So I write on my blank page, with black letters,

Not so that they cry over injustice, but so that they shine with hope.

One day, our voices will be free, no more need to shout or waltz,

For the sun shines for all, and its rays are universal.

2nd cycle of secondary school

Second prize

Author: Ruth Sanca Jean Philippe

School: Joseph François Perrault Secondary School

I refuse

I refuse to accept this world full of prejudices

I use my pen against racism because I refuse…

I refuse to continue watching men and women being mistreated.

I refuse to have my skin color humiliated and degraded.

I refuse to allow a child who is barely 10 years old

He burns his body under your contemptuous gaze

And that the guilty party gets away without a trial.

I refuse to watch any more disgusting videos

Where my community is treated like stray dogs

I use my pen against racial profiling

Against these police officers, whose friendship among them was so loyal

To hope to touch their icy hearts

Questions resonate within me

I'm 17 years old, so I'm wondering

Why am I seen as a threat?

What have I done wrong, to see so much hatred in your faces?

Why are you subjecting us to this treatment?,

To be seen as a stranger at every moment

To protect and serve,

Isn't that your motto?

White man, I can't breathe, take your feet off my neck, I can't breathe.

I refuse, I refuse, I refuse

I refuse to be stopped, questioned, and mistreated.

It's bitter, too bitter, the taste, the taste of your words is bitter.

Bitter is the taste you left in my mouth.,

When a child is barely 10 years old

He burns his body under your contemptuous gaze

And that the guilty party gets away without a trial.

White man, we are equal to you.

I refuse to let us continue to deny the past

What you did to us, and what we are still paying for today

I refuse to remain silent when the blood that flows in my veins

It is that of the slaves, seething with rage.

I refuse, I refuse

White man, you have made us suffer enough.

For some, their skin color represents power and respect.

For me, it's a burden

A weight that crushes me, that bends my back

Because under your gaze, I am always a suspect.

White man, I am not a criminal in the making.

I refuse to let you arrest me without proof, without cause.,

Because I am black, that doesn't justify anything.

Hey, white man, I am no less than you.,

My dreams, my struggles, are as big as you.

So stop your judgments, stop your mistreatment.,

Because I, too, am human like you.

I refuse, I refuse.

2nd cycle of secondary school

First prize

English text

Author: Annabel Pascal Francis

School: Emile Legault School

Repetition

Racism a six-letter word that strikes fear in hearts,

A six-letter word that's sharp like darts.

An act that can appear under many forms,

An act that makes you feel like you're being pierced with many swords.

A six-letter word that doesn't weigh anything,

But it still makes us feel like nothing.

When we started accepting this it's a wonder,

And yet it fills us with so much anger.

But why have we grown accustomed to this act?

We need to stop this and that's a fact

Racial profiling an act that lowers one self-esteem,

It's makes you feel alone and not on a team.

When it happens to you, you think about it for hours

From those experiences more hate flowers

When it happens to us, we no longer feel like queens and kings

Instead, we feel like birds with no wings

Racial profiling is not a game that should be taken lightly

It's something that we should've gotten rid of a long time ago in history

But why have we grown accustomed to this act?

We need to stop this and that's a fact

Why do black people have to fear humiliation because of their skin color?

Why do some of us have to fear looking in the mirror?

Why do Muslims have to fear being called terrorists because of their religious clothing?

Why do some of us have to fear what others are thinking?

Why are Asians discriminated against because of their features?

Why do some of us have to fear for our futures?

Why are native Americans seen as savages through history and their traditions taken as jokes?

Why do some of us always feel like we have lumps down our throats?

Why do white people have to fear being called out for something their forefathers did, but they had no part of?

Why do some of us have to bear the consequences instead of loving and being able to show love?

Do you think I'm repeating a lot of words in this message?

Don't you think that we're also tired of seeing the same mistakes repeat itself throughout history?

It's time to stop all this fighting and find a solution

We need to stop hating and treat each other with affection

It's time to raise our white flags

We need to stop seeing each other as scumbags

It's time to lift an olive branch

We need a new era of peace to hatch

It's time to look at the white dove's fly

We need to wave all this pain goodbye

Like the singer Bob Marley said: “One Love! One Heart! Let’s get together and feel all right.”

So, let's get together and let our inner lights shine bright

2nd cycle of secondary education

English text

First prize

Author: Mikayla Jenny Tchokouani

School: Emile Legault School

The unique being that I am

Is it normal to despise the beautiful creation of woman and man?

Is it okay to despise the unique being that I am?

Why do you choose to hate my skin?

It's a blessing to be coated in chocolate.

Why don't you accept the look of my melanin?

The sun loves to radiate its light on it.

Why am I being targeted?

Is it my fluffy hair, my skintone, my big lips and eyes?

Is that what you despise?

Why do you always disrespect the way I look?

My swan shaped eyes are beautiful.

Do you feel bothered by the traditional food I cook?

Do you suppose that the use of chopsticks is incomprehensible?

Why am I being targeted?

Is it the language I speak, the sound of my name, my customary garments?

The discriminations I go through are like a handful of torments.

Why are you not willing to include those who are different?

Do you find it weird that I cover my face?

Is there something wrong with my jewelry that I find elegant?

Is being divergent a disgrace?

Why am I being targeted?

Is it my bronze tone, the veil I wear, are my words of defense still unclear?

What about me do you find so hard to bear?

Everyone has a nationality.

Everyone is original.

Everyone has an ethnicity.

Everyone's difference is beautiful and natural.

So many of our ancestors suffered for a beauty others thought was ugly.

They were treated like dogs when they were supposed to be treated with respect and equality.

Again, I ask, is it normal to despise the beautiful creation of woman and man?

Is it okay to despise the unique being that I am?

2nd cycle of secondary school

Jury's Choice Award

Author: Derardja Adnane

School: Joseph-François-Perrault Secondary School

9 minutes

Nine minutes, an eternity,

Too heavy a burden for humanity.

A stolen breath, a broken voice,

«"I can't breathe."»

Nine minutes, a body nailed down,

Icy asphalt, like fairness.

Terrified looks,

But nobody can stop the cold.

Nine minutes of horror on repeat,

A knee seals the pain in a loop.

The air is thin, the air betrays.,

But the skin decides who lives.

Nine minutes, and everything changes.,

Having had his skin examined, the man steps back.

A cry is stifled by indifference.,

His only fault? His existence.

Nine minutes, the world teeters,

Crowds march, names glitter.

The streets roar, the wind rises,

But a shadow hangs over so many dreams.

Nine minutes, never in vain.,

May a destiny never die again.

May air never again be refused,

May justice break its confused chains.

Nine minutes, but not forgotten,

Nine minutes, but infinity.

First cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Laurence Lussier

School: Collège Saint Sacrement

But why?

But why so much hatred towards difference?

Why so much fuss over something so lacking in elegance?

Overcome your closure

Take a step back

Think of this wickedness

Your apologies, it's time to offer them

But why not accept it?

Why not consider that it might affect them?

Don't take this lightly

We must stand together.

We are all human

We all need support

Friends, family, loved ones, or even strangers

Think about your comments, which are full of innuendo.

I am calling on you today so that respect may prevail.

It's high time we taught it to you

Take notes

It could be a big jackpot

The jackpot of a world without racism

The lottery of a world full of humanism

But why is this vision not real?

Why is it artificial?

It is because there are still those who believe it is acceptable.

However, this is negligible.

We must stop

We should all be allies

A simple outstretched hand

That's a good start

We should all do it

That would make a beautiful universe for us.

I am writing this text not for myself

But for all blacks, Arabs, Chinese

You deserve to live without judgment

I'm sure you'll be part of the movement.

But why so much hatred towards difference?

Why so much fuss over something so lacking in elegance?

That is precisely what I am asking of you today.

You must stop, I beg you.

2nd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Maëlie Robert

School: Joseph-François-Perrault

The Alexandrine in black and white

Just for a moment, let's become children again.

Because it is through their eyes that we see life unfiltered

Yes, just for a little while, let's become children again.

It's time to open our eyes to those we make vulnerable.

I feel like I'm four years old again; I don't have all my teeth.

I can't wait to grow up so that people will finally listen to me.

Because the grown-ups are right, we're still just children

Grown-ups invent things, but I don't understand any of it.

They told me that people are either black or white.

And whether we like it or not, it changes our destiny

Yet when I look at the others around me

No one has black skin, much less white skin

Shades of beige to brown, that's what I see

But it's because of the adults that I see these nuances.

I see these so-called colors without perceiving them.

I see colors when a kite flies by.

Life in black and white breaks my heart.

Because when I look at you, I see living beings.

I'm sixteen now, sixteen years old and I have all my teeth

I'm not white, but it doesn't look like it.

And that's all for the best, being a woman is already so much

One less target on me, much less hassle.

Some believe that in this country, everyone is safe.

They believe that, white or black, we all have the same chances

So tell me why when you go out at night

If you come across cats, only one brings bad luck.

In a game of chess, which pawns move first?

And that famous pencil, the skin-colored pencil

It can only be beige, we were taught that

Perhaps these stories seem trivial to you.

Pure and simple coincidences, as you will claim

But the reality is unfortunately even worse.

Cats, chess, and pencils are all derived from it.

Even in Quebec, we separate black from white

Our police officers have also too often been guilty

The blood of dark-skinned people without any justified reason

That is why, forever, let us keep our hearts childlike.

And through our eyes, let's see life unfiltered

Let's keep our eyes open so we don't lose the thread.

Life in black and white is far too depressing.

3rd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Arianna Karalis

School: North Star Academy Laval

Rock-Paper-Scissors

You challenge someone to a game of rock-paper-scissors. Rock. You've always believed that rock is the winning, strategic option. Paper. Why should the other options matter when rock is the best? Scissors. Your hands clench into fists, a representation of your desire to win. Your opponent throws scissors. You win because rock beats scissors. Typical. From an outsider's perspective, this game seems insignificant and pointless, but the superior ideas underlying it are directly related to the motivations behind racism and discrimination. Why does the oppressor always win and not the oppressed?

According to the association's statistical analysis World Rock Paper Scissors, Players tend to choose rock as their first choice in 35% cases. Paper and scissors are less frequent initial choices. The options are all the same, but they are not treated equally. In this perverse society and in a world filled with rock supremacists, people of color have no choice but to live their lives like paper and scissors. What sense does it make that one of the three principles of the game Rock-Paper-Scissors is better than all the others? What good does it do the world if one race is more successful than another? What difference would it make if all skin colors were equally important?

According Psychology Today, Players subconsciously view the rock as a weapon and use it when other strategies fail. The concept is no different from how society rejects people of color because it is the strongest entity separating them. Racism is the sharpest, deepest weapon; it is based on jealousy and superiority—and superiority is a desire. The insatiable urge to be superior runs in everyone's veins, but only the most malevolent allow this feeling to poison their blood. Putting someone down because of their skin color is the product of an inner hatred. Let's say it's a parasite, this supremacism. It depends on its host to survive. You are the host. It is up to you to oppose society. Will you let the malicious notion of superiority consume you, or will you fight it?

You are challenged to a rematch. Rock-paper-scissors never disappears, so you play again. Described by the Cambridge Dictionary, The domino effect is the situation in which one event triggers a series of related events. However, racism doesn't persist because of the past; it's because society allows it to continue to thrive. It's time to learn that rock, paper, and scissors are all equal, and that no one is better than another. It's time to move forward, and the simplest way to start is to change your perspective on the simple game of rock-paper-scissors.

2nd cycle of secondary school

First prize

Author: Sangaré Aminata Imane Haalya

School: PIERRE Dupuy SECONDARY SCHOOL

Together against racism

My name is Sangaré Aminata Imane Haalya. I was born in Ivory Coast, a country in West Africa, in the city of Daloa in 2010. I came to Canada at the age of 9 with my family. It was a big change in my life, but I'm happy to be here. Pleased to meet you…

Here's how I would introduce myself if asked, but if asked to introduce myself in detail I would say:

I am a 15-year-old girl with dark brown skin. My religion is Islam, and I wear the hijab. I am also a human being, not a monkey. I am a Muslim, not a terrorist. I was born in Ivory Coast, an extraordinary, charming, and beautiful country, a land of hospitality and joy, a land brimming with fascinating history, spectacular monuments, and breathtaking landscapes, a country of cultural and traditional diversity, not a parched or waterless land.

• My black skin, which shines like gold when I'm in the sun, represents the legacy of my enslaved ancestors.

• My black, kinky, and bushy hair, demonstrating great resilience and surprising strength, represents the resilience and strength of my community.

• My eyes, a captivating and deep black, represent the darkness of the hearts of the individuals who have made us suffer for centuries and still do today, but also the suffering we endure.

• My incredible traditions and cultures are the traces left by my predecessors and continue to shine even today.

• My piercing, resonant and striking voice when I sing, it is the voice of the singers (griots/es) of my country when they entertained my ancestors.

If someone asks me what I think about racism, I would say:

When I think back on everything that Black people have had to endure between:

• Racism

• Denigration

• racial segregation

• Discrimination

• Violence

• Colonization

• Slavery

• To deprive of rights, freedom and humanity

And several other terrible sufferings, I wonder“ How is it possible to be so strong after all that?” Because yes, even after all these injustices, suffering, and mistreatment, the people of my community remained united and resilient; they showed strength and courage. They never sought revenge, even though they could have, but instead they continued to move forward with pride and always with their hands raised, unafraid to assert themselves. They were able to rise above it all and demand their rights, their freedom, and their humanity.

As for the people who made them suffer all this, I feel enormous disgust towards them and I only have one question for them: “WHY?” Why commit all these atrocities, why so much wickedness towards these women, these children, these men… towards these innocent people.

Are you happy now? Are you proud of having caused so much suffering?

My heart aches, I ache for all these innocent people killed, tortured, and wrongly accused. Just because of their skin color, their origins, their cultures, their traditions, or their very being.

But I also feel immense pride for all those activists who fought to save us from this maelstrom of torture. They fought so that we, Black people, could go to places that were previously forbidden to us, especially co-educational schools. Thanks to them, I can now write this text to denounce the mistreatment they endured.

So yes, today I am proud to say loud and clear

“I am black and I am proud of it.”.

This is how I would present myself in detail…

During this Black History Month, I feel prouder than ever to be Black; I could talk about this subject for hours. Black history, which is certainly a tragic and moving experience, motivates me because every morning I tell myself, “ ”I am so proud to be Black; we not only have a unique beauty but also a remarkable history.”, This allows me to assert myself and accept myself as I am. All people of color are beautiful, from the lightest shade of black to the darkest; from vitiligo to albinism, we are all incredible and we should be proud of it…

Honorable mention to: 

• Martin Luther King Jr.

• Malcolm X

• Nelson Mandela 

• Rosa Parks

• Barack Obama

• Toma Sankara 

• Jackie Robinson

• Harriet Tubman

All these activists who contributed to the liberation of Black people. (There are many more than them) 

 I would like to say a few words:

BLACK HISTORY IN OUR MEMORY FOREVER… BLACK LIVES MATTER…

Together against racism! 

2nd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Authors: Zahaf Lina, Kim Cécile Pham

School: Joseph-François-Perrault School

Under the same sky

The echo of my footsteps resonates differently, according to the shade of my being, like a silence heavy with prejudice. 

My blood reflects the unjustified violence. 

My eyes are the approval of these repeated arrests, etched in the shadows of my thoughts, abandoned by distorted narratives. 

My mouth is the cage of the voice of our despised souls, forced to maintain these imposed calumnies. 

How far will our complicit omission go? 

In the streets, I am identified before I even know myself, with stares that cut sharper than blades, reducing the soul to a specter. 

We see them by their origins, their faiths or their colors, but in their minds burns the desire for a new world to be born. 

The doors open, but their control is locked away, behind masks where anxiety reveals what they refuse to admit. 

How long will you continue to respect these oppressed lives without this simply translating into an act of service? 

Our hearts all beat, but those touched by injustice resonate in a collapsing cadence, while those who ignore pain vibrate in a clear, probing rhythm. 

Charters of laws and freedoms erase borders, but these residents remain marked by the weight of the third world. 

Even though you were born here, your name echoes in a deep valley, where citizenship never finds its resonance. 

How long will you continue to conceal your hatred under this guise of justice? 

We limit ourselves to the term "racism," but it's much more insidious, a form of control that disguises itself like fascism.

In the name of God, we will all die equal, without strength or superiority, victims of the same charisma.

2nd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Sabine Belattaf

School: Joseph-François-Perrault School

Just another day

I was strolling through the city streets

A smile was hanging on my lips

Some individuals suddenly called out to me.

His reassuring-looking people approached

Intrusive questions were asked

No response was given from me.

Impatience began to rise

One of them started shouting

My body began to tremble.

I had asked them for peace and quiet

Violence will have been granted to me

A blow was given to the cheek.

A face was pressed against the ground

A man was crushing me with his knee

People tried in vain to help me

A hand was pressing on my neck

Air could no longer enter my lungs

Several seconds passed

My neck, in his hands, was not released.

When at last that moment had arrived

My body remained on the ground forever

2nd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Ennaifer

School: JMC School

The shadow that refuses to go out

Racism is a shadow that clings to the world's soles. We move forward, thinking we've left it behind, telling ourselves things have changed, that history has learned its lessons. But it's still there, lurking in sidelong glances, hidden behind venomous words, concealed beneath forced smiles. It's everywhere and nowhere at once, invisible to those who don't experience it, crushing for those who are its targets. We think it belongs to another time, gone, vanished with the chains and the camps, and yet, it simply changes its mask. Less brutal sometimes, more insidious often. It seeps into conversations, into laws, into habits, until it becomes background noise to which too many people become accustomed.

But how can one become accustomed to injustice? How can one accept that skin can be a barrier, that a name a condemnation, that an accent a dividing line? Who decided that one shade was worth more than another, that one culture should dominate, that a person could be reduced to a color? Why measure an individual's worth solely by the shade of their skin, as if the essence of a person were contained in a color chart?

Racism is a poison injected from childhood, in seemingly innocuous phrases, in poorly told stories, in prejudices passed down without a second thought. It's a disease we catch without realizing it, a virus that spreads through complicit silences and awkward laughter. It transforms neighbors into strangers, brothers into adversaries, entire peoples into enemies. It erects invisible walls where there were only bridges to build. It confines us to boxes, imposes labels, forces us to choose a side, even though we all belong to the same humanity.

We see it everywhere, in everyday life, in small humiliations, in remarks that seem innocuous but wound deeply. A job application rejected for no reason, a seat refused in a taxi, an identity check repeated without justification. We find it in the stereotypes that are perpetuated, in the clichés that cling like a curse. “They’re all like that,» “It’s part of their culture,» «We know what they’re like.» Phrases tossed off the cuff, instant judgments, barriers erected in just a few words.

And yet, it would take so little to erase it. A sincere look, an outstretched hand, a fearless dialogue. It would only take learning to see beyond skin color, beyond words, beyond origins. But racism is stubborn; it clings like a bramble to thoughts, it wraps itself around minds and refuses to let go.

It hides behind rhetoric that seeks to soothe our consciences. We disguise it with phrases like "I'm not racist, but…" or "You can't say anything anymore…". We excuse it under the pretext of traditions, fears, and habits. We trivialize it, justify it, ignore it, and yet, it continues to hurt, destroy, and divide.

Racism isn't just a word; it's a form of suffering. It's the fear of walking alone at night because you have the wrong skin color. It's the suspicious look in a store, the unequal treatment before the law, the opportunities that vanish without explanation. It's the silent rage that grows in those who have to prove themselves a thousand times more to get a thousand times less.

And then there are those who refuse to see. Those who say racism doesn't exist, that it's a fabrication, an exaggeration. Those who look away, who refuse to listen, who prefer to believe the problem lies with those who denounce it rather than those who perpetuate it. Those who will never understand because they've never had to face it.

But denying a problem doesn't make it disappear. To remain silent is to be complicit. To ignore is to encourage.

So, we must fight. Not just with words, not just with laws, but with actions, every single day. We must deconstruct, explain, show that the other is not a danger but an asset. We must dare to speak out when jokes cross the line, we must reject easy answers, we must educate relentlessly. We must lend an ear, listen to the pain of others, understand their anger, acknowledge injustices instead of minimizing them.

Racism won't disappear on its own. We must confront it, unmask it, and fight it at every moment. We must learn to see differences as a strength, not a threat. Because ultimately, we are all just passengers on the same ship. The wind doesn't choose its direction based on the color of the sails, the sea doesn't decide who it carries and who it casts aside. We are all made of the same breath, the same hope, the same fire.

We all have a role to play. Every word counts, every action has an impact. Being anti-racist isn't just about not being racist. It's about actively opposing, denouncing, supporting, and raising your voice when others are silenced. It's about refusing to let the shadow of racism continue to spread, refusing to let a handful of ignorant people dictate who has the right to fully exist and who must constantly justify themselves.

Racism is a fracture, an open wound on the body of humanity. But it is not inevitable. It is possible to mend, to repair, to learn to walk together without fear, without mistrust, without hatred.

All you have to do is open your eyes, open your heart. Dare to see, dare to understand. Dare to love. Because the only race that exists is humanity. And it's time it finally opened its eyes.

2nd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Boukertouta, Amira

School: Jean-Eudes College

Unbowed

Have you ever noticed that we are all unique and different? Some have freckles, green eyes, only one arm, or even speak a different language. And it's not just humans who are unique. Take bears, for example! There are brown bears, black bears, and white bears. Yet, they all have different characteristics and abilities. And that's not all! I imagine you've noticed that the flora of our planet is magnificent. Indeed, we are fortunate to see all sorts of colorful plants. For example, roses are red, sunflowers are yellow, and lavender is purple. Unfortunately, some people are unable to accept others for who they are because of their skin color or origins. It's high time we put an end to all of this!

First of all, I imagine you understand what this letter will be about, but I still want to clarify. Racism! This racial hierarchy has long been a part of our lives in the past. For example, around the 1950s, there were buses reserved for white people and buses reserved for Black people. Also, some people based their opinions on what they saw and heard, according to preconceived ideas, rather than on the individual's personality. This is what we call stereotypes or racial profiling. We will also refer to this. Don't think that's all! Nowadays, even after the intervention of several heroes such as Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King, we can still be confronted with such situations. These can occur in the street, in schools, in restaurants, or even in supermarkets. Moreover, some people don't know how to react in such situations. Isn't that reason enough to raise awareness and help those who are victims of such harassment? Why is it necessary to abolish this racial segregation?

Here's the answer! To begin, I assume you realize how uncomfortable you would feel if you received inappropriate comments about your appearance or your background, whatever it may be. Like you, I refuse to be devalued, belittled, and judged. Indeed, this often leads to a drop in self-esteem and other detrimental effects on mental health. Therefore, I propose that we work together to stop this racial scourge in order to ensure the well-being of every citizen. In this way, we will focus on the development of our societies and, consequently, live in respect within our communities. In short, every individual who feels valued in their environment will contribute to collective progress.

In conclusion, the impacts of racism and racial profiling on human beings are often very significant and can lead to negative feelings. This is a crucial issue that deserves to be defended and discussed. The future of humanity is in our hands. Let's unite our differences to build a better world!

2nd cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Joo Ahjin

School: Montreal International School

Identity under the weight of words

Where are you from?

A wind is blowing on my identity

What makes you think I'm an immigrant?

Your gaze, however, makes me doubt.

Ni Hao!

A greeting thrown out without anchor, without thought.

Lacking knowledge, you choose to improvise.,

Without knowing my origins, that's all you have to say to me.

Where are your eyelids?

Veiled by the shadow of your chimeras,

Your ways are lost,

Carried away by your fleeting words.

You speak French very well, I must say!

My language has never crossed borders.

It flows through me like a river.

Your compliment leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

You're beautiful...for an Asian woman!

Beauty, however, has no shores.,

Your comment is holding me hostage, like a prisoner.

In the denigration of my heritage.

My neighbors are Korean, you'll get along well!

I weave the links in the hearts and chains of our passage.,

And not to the lands we share.

My priority is based on the humanity we engage.

Discreet, studious, black hair, small eyes, yellow skin.

Am I simply echoing your prejudices?

Or are you simply not realizing the reality?

The one where we are free to exist.

Listen to me, without fear.

Look at me, without assuming.

Teach me, without imagining me.

Instead of guessing at me.

First cycle of secondary school

Bonuses 2025

Author: Carl Rousseau

School: Montreal College

The fear of my color

I remember the time my mother was arrested

I remember the time when I was in too much pain to eat

I remember the time I thought I was dreaming

When a white man was attentive to me

That he disappeared during the night

The Klan showed him no mercy.

I cannot live fully

Because my life is anything but hilarious.

I have no friends at school

Because everyone steals my money

Just like my will to live

I have to live on edge, constantly alert.

People despise me in the street

And when I ask for directions they ignore me

I no longer know who I am.

These insults, their ideology, harm me.

This color, my identity

This name because I am a refugee

My presence

My absence

My night

But they rejoice

I hope that one day

After all this bravery

Like a human being, I will be accepted.

The new genesis of the world into which I was born

But for now it's only the whites

Who have the prerogative not to suddenly

To be accused of baseless crimes

I would like to be freed

One last reason to live

That one day I will find my house

My life, my emancipation.