Books How I Wrote It

Annahid Dashtgard shares how she faced discrimination, racism and trauma in her memoir Breaking the Ocean

Posted: September 28, 2020
Last Updated: September 28, 2020

Annahid Dashtgard is an author, change-maker and co-founder of Anima Leadership, a boutique consulting company specializing in issues of diversity, inclusion and anti-racism. 

Her debut book, Breaking the Ocean, is both a memoir and a guide to facing discrimination, racism and trauma in society. Dashtgard was born to a British mother and a Persian father in 1970s Iran. After the 1979 Islamic Revolution, her family was forced into exile and moved to Alberta. Growing up, she faced racism and bullying from the community. 

Breaking the Ocean introduces a unique perspective on how racism and systemic discrimination result in emotional scarring and ongoing PTSD. 

Dashtgard spoke with CBC Books about writing Breaking the Ocean.

Confronted by myself

"Writing this book was a combination of being at a particular point in my life. It was after the birth of my second child I was without the usual crutch of work and affirmation coming at me from the external world.

It was interesting in that writing this book didn't feel like a choice. It felt like I had to write and get it out.

"I was deeply confronted by myself. I was struggling with high levels of anxiety and depression. I was struggling to make it through.

"It was being in that state combined with Trump winning the U.S. election in 2016. It was the combination of both the internal and the external coming together.

"It was interesting in that writing this book didn't feel like a choice. It felt like I had to write and get it out." 

• After fleeing Iran as a child, Annahid Dashtgard reflects on the pandemic as a form of exile

Identity trauma

"I wanted to capture the reality of racism and other '-isms' as a form of identity trauma.

"I had a psychologist name my past experience in the context of trauma. I was thrown off by that and I was realizing that the trauma of being different things and having a different identity is something that will be increasing in the time that we're living in.

"We're getting to the point where we recognize public traumas like PTSD suffered by those in the military  or if there's a natural disaster there's an outpouring of empathy. Similarly for private traumas like sexual abuse there's an outpouring of empathy. And there should be. 

But when people talk about racism about immigration or these kinds of bigger systemic forces, it's like the immediate 'go-to place' for most people is still denial, dismissal or minimization.

"But when people talk about racism about immigration or these kinds of bigger systemic forces, it's like the immediate 'go-to place' for most people is still denial, dismissal or minimization. 

"That response exacerbates the trauma. You're left constantly second guessing yourself, and wondering if your version of reality is accurate.

"There is this unprocessed grief, shame, fear and anger that there is no place to put publicly. When the wound is created by the community, we also need to be a healing community for it. It's a problem that we're not recognizing. It's about how do we create that space."

Growing up mixed-race in Alberta

"It was a revelation for me in writing the book. The biggest impact for me was moving from Iran and living in small town Alberta. It was a very white and homogenous community. The racism was both overt as well as subtle both at school as well as in the community.

"It wasn't just name calling, it was physical and social shunning. I write in the book that social shunning is almost more violent than its physical counterpart, because it's such a complete blanket rejection. It got to a point where somebody calling me names actually felt better than the complete invisibility.

It got to a point where somebody calling me names actually felt better than the complete invisibility.

"This is where the mental and physical health challenges started very early on. I started an OCD behaviour of going to the bathroom multiple times a night and not just once or twice but sometimes 20-30 times. As a nine-year-old kid I would not be able to fall asleep until two or three in the morning.

"Even now as an adult, I can take two or three sleeping pills and still stay awake. I'm the oldest in my family as well. I felt like the one that was kind of responsible for holding things together."

A loss of place

"The surprise in the writing process wasn't what happened after we moved. It wasn't the fear, and it wasn't even the anger. It was the grief that was a surprise for me. There was the double whammy of what we encountered in Canada, but also the grief of what we had left behind. It wasn't until I was writing the book that it hit me: what had been severed was a loss of everything that was familiar. 

It wasn't until I was writing the book that it hit me: what had been severed was a loss of everything that was familiar. 

"There was a loss of a place and belonging. A loss of all the things that anchor us to feeling like we belonged to a place, a community, a culture and an extended family. We had the loss of that overnight. We had no contact with family in Iran after our exile and forced emigration."

Reclaiming the self

"The trauma now is in ignoring or denying what's there. So I didn't find the writing process traumatic at all. It felt totally relieving. I was actually able to see how to reclaim agency and to then integrate all those parts that have been left behind in the past.

I was writing about moving to Canada, there were scenes where tears were streaming down my face.

"I was writing about moving to Canada, there were scenes where tears were streaming down my face. But the ability to write a scene from the perspective of my nine-year-old self was something where I was actually going back in time to hold the hand of that nine-year-old and reclaim power that was lost in that moment. I was then doing the same with the 15-year-old, the 22-year-old and the 30-something-year-old me.

"The writing process actually felt liberating. The impacts of racism, sexism, immigration and these larger social forces are that they hammer away parts of the self that are essential to us feeling powerful and having a voice.

"The act of writing this book and reclaiming voice was so coupled with this feeling of reclaiming power. It was this kind of welcoming the parts of the past selves back in."

Annahid Dashtgard's comments have been edited for length and clarity.