He’s not hiding anymore: former Vancouver journalist reflects on a lifetime of systemic racism in a new memoir

Former journalist Sunny Dhillon went viral in 2018 when he wrote a blog post about quitting his high-profile job in a Vancouver newsroom. Now, he is reflecting on that experience, as well as a lifetime of systemic racism, in a new memoir.

Hide and Sikh: Letters from a Life in Brown Skin comes seven years after “Journalism While Brown and When to Walk Away,” a piece Dhillon wrote the day he served notice to the Globe and Mail‘s Vancouver bureau.

The book begins by recounting an encounter the author and his daughter had while on a playground near their home in Ottawa. They were there with another father and his child, when that father made fun of another child’s unpronounceable name, which he called a joke, marveling at how the parents could have chosen it.

This sparked memories for Dhillon, who instantly remembered the smirks and laughter directed his way when a substitute teacher read his legal name aloud while taking classroom attendance. This was in the days before a separate column existed for preferred first names. The reader learns Sunny Dhillon was in, fact, born Ravdeep Dhillon. While how he chose the name Sunny has been lost to the passage of time, Dhillon points out Ravdeep means “sunlight” in Punjabi.

That episode on the Ottawa playground ultimately inspired Hide and Sikh, which is presented as a series of letters to his young daughter, so that she may avoid some of the pitfalls he fell into as a younger man.

“When I was growing up, the people around me didn’t really talk about racism a lot. It wasn’t a problem that we really game-planned for. And so, when I would face racism, and I frequently did, even at a young age, my response was to hide,” he said.

“And so, I didn’t embrace who I was, and I actively tried to hide it.”

He says racism made him hide his identity, first at school and later in the workplace. These are experiences he hopes his daughter can avoid.

“I’m not going to hand her the book tomorrow, but I’m having some of these same conversations with her to let her know what’s going on and to let her know who she is so that she’s comfortable in her skin in a way that perhaps I haven’t always been.”

There is plenty of heart and humour in the book, despite its serious subject matter. For instance, Dhillon tells his daughter she doesn’t have to be a doctor – she is free to use her medical degree to be a psychiatrist as well.

“I think people of Indian descent are pushed by their parents into these certain fields, doctors being one of them,” he said.

“And so, in writing for my daughter, I try to be a little bit more open with different paths. Whatever she wants to do, as long as she’s serious about it, we’ll figure it out.”

Dhillon also reflects on the state of journalism, from the assignment that made him quit his job at the Globe and Mail, to the pullback on progressive policies like Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs.

“We had this period around 2020 following the murder of George Floyd where racial progress was really at the fore in a way that I had never seen before, certainly in my adult life,” he said.

“We are very much in an era of backsliding on those gains. But that doesn’t mean we give up, that doesn’t mean that we stop marching forward. But, yeah, it’s a tough time right now.”

Dhillon, who now lives and attends law school in Ottawa, noticed the change around 2022.

“The so-called Freedom Convoy that came through here seemed to usher in this era of pushback on those gains, a pushback against inclusion, a pushback against the experiences and plights of racialized people.”

Dhillon had decided he was finished with journalism when an assignment didn’t go his way. It was the last in a series of slights that made him question his place in the craft as a racialized person.

It was October 2018, and the assignment was a follow story to the recent municipal election in Vancouver. Dhillon’s brief was to look at the ethnic make-up of the new council, specifically how it was nearly all white. Yet, with less than 90 minutes to deadline, Dhillon says his bureau chief told him to focus less on the race angle and more on the fact that eight of the 10 elected councillors were women. Dhillon had planned to mention that fact anyway, but not with the triumphal framing his supervisor had ordered. When Dhillon pushed back, he was curtly told the newsroom “was not a democracy.” That was the final straw. As Dhillon observed his viral blog post, it made him realize “what I brought to the newsroom did not matter.”

Given that experience, Dhillon has a hard time recommending journalism as a field worth pursuing, especially for people of colour.

“I think, certainly in this country, journalism’s not in in a great place. I think it’s hard to be a journalist of colour, both in the way that you yourself might be treated within the industry, within newsroom walls, but also the effect that journalism in this country has on racialized people who have never been within newsroom walls, the way in which we as racialized people are often portrayed, the undue suspicion that can be cast up on us, and the way the goal posts that our journalism standards are moved in pursuit of that at times.”

Ultimately, Hide and Sikh is a powerful and important read about race, family, and the dangers of fitting in at the cost of your own identity and beliefs.

Still, Dhillon remains upbeat, hoping the reader can find strength in his story. His message to other racialized people is the same as to his daughter: you don’t have to hide anymore.

“You know, often when these things occurred, I would think that no one else in the world had ever experienced them. And there’s something affirming when you know that someone else has,” he said.

Hide and Sikh: Letters from a Life in Brown Skin is published by Wolsak & Wynn.