I’ll be honest—Canada’s story often feels like it skips over certain voices.
We hear about the big names, the prime ministers, the explorers, but what about the Black folks who’ve been here forever, shaping things in ways we’re still feeling?
I mean, Black people have been part of Canada since the 1600s—think Mathieu Da Costa, who might’ve been the first Black person to step onto our soil as an interpreter for French explorers.
That’s centuries of grit, talent, and heart.
Yet, somehow, their stories can feel like whispers instead of shouts.
1. Mathieu Da Costa: The First Trailblazer
Okay, let’s start way back with Mathieu Da Costa. I picture him standing on a creaky ship, wind in his face, bridging worlds with his words.
Historians figure he rolled into Canada around 1600, working as a translator between French explorers like Samuel de Champlain and Indigenous peoples.
Is a Black man fluent in multiple languages, including Mi’kmaq? That’s next-level. He’s like Canada’s original connector—proof Black folks were here from the jump, making things happen.
We don’t know tons about him—where he was born (maybe in Africa or Portugal), or how his life ended.
But his name pops up in old records, and that’s enough for me to tip my hat.
Canada’s a nation of immigrants, right? Mathieu was one of the earliest, setting the stage for everyone who’d follow.
2. Viola Desmond: The Quiet Rebel
Fast forward to the 20th century, and I’ve got to tell you about Viola Desmond.
She’s my hero—the kind of woman who’d stare down injustice with a calm that could shake mountains.
Back in 1946, Viola, a Halifax businesswoman, sat in the “whites-only” section of a movie theater in New Glasgow, Nova Scotia.
She wasn’t trying to start a revolution—just wanted to watch a film. But when they told her to move, she said no. Simple as that.
They dragged her out, arrested her, and fined her $20. Viola fought it in court, and though she didn’t win, her stand lit a spark.
People call her Canada’s Rosa Parks, but I think she’s Viola—unique, fierce, her force.
She ran a beauty school and trained Black women to thrive in a world that often shut them out.
In 2018, Canada put her on the $10 bill. Seeing her face there? Chills every time.
3. Elijah McCoy: The Inventor Extraordinaire
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Now, let’s talk Elijah McCoy. Ever heard the phrase “the real McCoy”?
Yeah, that’s him. Born in 1844 to parents who escaped slavery via the Underground Railroad, Elijah grew up in Colchester, Ontario.
Smart as a whip, he studied engineering in Scotland—because Canada wouldn’t let a Black guy into its schools back then. Brutal, but he didn’t let it stop him.
He invented a lubrication system for steam engines that changed the game. Trains could run longer, and safer, without constant stops.
Companies tried copying it, but he was the best—hence “the real McCoy.”
Over his life, he snagged 57 patents. Fifty-seven! I can barely keep a houseplant alive, and here’s Elijah’s revolutionizing industry.
His legacy is in every machine that hums smoothly today.
4. Mary Ann Shadd Cary: The Voice That Roared
Mary Ann Shadd Cary grabs my heart every time I think about her.
Born in 1823 in Delaware, she moved to Canada West (now Ontario) in the 1850s after the U.S. tightened its grip on slavery. She wasn’t just escaping—she was building.
Mary Ann started The Provincial Freeman, a newspaper for Black Canadians.
First Black woman in North America to run one. Can you imagine the guts that took?
She wrote about abolition, education, women’s rights—stuff that mattered. Her words weren’t soft; they punched.
One line I love: “We should do more and talk less.” She lived that, teaching, speaking, and pushing Black settlers to claim their place in Canada.
Later, she headed back to the U.S., became a lawyer—another first for a Black woman. Mary Ann didn’t just shape Canada; she shook the whole continent.
5. Lincoln Alexander: The Political Titan
A true leader for racial equality and education, the Hon. Lincoln Alexander became, in 1968, the first Black Canadian elected to the #HoC. He then became a cabinet minister and a lieutenant governor of Ontario. #BlackHistoryMonth #LincolnAlexander pic.twitter.com/U9DmRYTTXS
— House of Commons (@OurCommons) February 20, 2024
Lincoln Alexander’s story makes me grin—he’s proof you can climb high and stay real.
Born in 1922 in Toronto to Caribbean immigrants, he faced racism head-on. Kids called him slurs; jobs turned him away. But Lincoln? He kept going.
Flew for the Royal Canadian Air Force in WWII, then became a lawyer. In 1968, he won a seat in Parliament—the first Black MP in Canada.
He didn’t stop there. First Black cabinet minister,and first Black Lieutenant Governor of Ontario (1985–1991). I love picturing him in that fancy office, breaking every ceiling with his deep voice and no-nonsense vibe.
He once said, “I’m not a Black politician; I’m a politician who happens to be Black.” That hits me—Lincoln owned his space and made it bigger for everyone.
6. Michaëlle Jean: The Refugee Who Rose
Michaëlle Jean’s journey floors me. Born in Haiti in 1957, she fled with her family to Quebec in 1968, escaping Duvalier’s dictatorship.
Imagine being 11, landing in a cold, new country, not knowing what’s next.
She turned that into gold—became a journalist, a TV star, and then, in 2005, Canada’s Governor General. First Black person in that role.
I watched her speeches growing up—she had a warmth that pulled you in, but steel too. She championed arts, youth, and Indigenous rights.
Critics griped about her dual French citizenship, but I saw a woman who carried her roots proudly while serving Canada.
7. Oscar Peterson: The Jazz King
@jazz_cafe21 #oscarpeterson #jazz #music #live #foryourpage #CapCut ♬ suono originale – jazz_cafe21
Okay, I can’t not talk about Oscar Peterson. If you haven’t heard his piano, pause right now and pull up “Night Train.”
Born in 1925 in Montreal to a railway porter dad from the Virgin Islands, Oscar turned jazz into magic.
His fingers flew—critics called him the “Maharaja of the keyboard.” I’d listen to him and feel my whole soul lift.
He won eight Grammys and played for royalty, but never forgot where he came from.
Racism dogged him—hotels barred him, gigs paid him less than white players. Still, he shone. When he died in 2007, Canada mourned a legend. His music is a gift that keeps giving.
8. Donovan Bailey: The Speed Demon
Donovan Bailey’s my guy if we’re talking pure energy. Born in Jamaica in 1967, he moved to Oakville, Ontario, as a kid.
In 1996, he blazed the 100-meter dash at the Atlanta Olympics—9.84 seconds, world record, gold medal, first Canadian to claim it.
I remember jumping off my couch, yelling like I’d run it myself.
He wasn’t just fast—he was loud about Black pride. Called himself “the world’s fastest man” and owned it.
Injuries slowed him later, but that moment? It’s etched in Canada’s sports soul. Donovan showed the world what Black Canadian talent looks like unleashed.
What Ties Them Together
So, what’s the thread here? Mathieu, Viola, Elijah, Mary Ann, Lincoln, Michaëlle, Oscar, Donovan—they’re all different, right?
Explorer, rebel, inventor, writer, politician, leader, musician, sprinter. But they’ve got fire in common.
Each one faced a Canada that wasn’t always welcoming—slavery, segregation, snubs—and said, “Nope, I’m here, and I’m making it better.”
They built schools, broke records, wrote laws, and played notes that echo still. I’m in awe of how they turned struggle into strength.
Canada’s richer for it—more human, more colorful.
A Few More Names to Know
I could go on forever, but here are some quick shoutouts:
They’re part of the tapestry too—stitches we can’t ignore.
Why It Matters to Me (And Maybe You)
I’m no historian—just a Canadian who loves a good story. Reading about them makes me proud, but also hungry to know more.
Black Canadians didn’t just shape the nation; they are the nation, woven into its bones. Yet, I wonder how many kids learn their names in school. Not enough, I bet.
Their lives remind me we’ve all got a shot to leave something behind—big or small. Viola’s quiet “no,” Oscar’s wild chords, Donovan’s sprint—they’re all pushes against the grain. Maybe we can take a page from them, yeah?