‘I didn’t see myself as different’

Ali Haeri grew up skiing. But it wasn’t until he wanted to become a certified ski guide that the colour of his skin began to matter

For as long as I can remember, I have loved snow. I love walking in it, kicking it up – even eating it. I love how each flake lights up under the glow of the street lamp as it falls. I love shovelling it (except when it’s wet and heavy). I also make a living in it as a ski guide – but the challenges I faced to get here were frustrating.

Growing up, I didn’t see myself as any different from the next person on the chairlift. I never felt that anyone else thought so, either. It wasn’t until I wanted to become a ski guide that the colour of my skin began to matter.

My parents moved to Montreal 43 years ago from Iran. I was raised in its suburbs about a 45-minute drive from the nearest chairlift. My parents were not avid skiers, yet my mother made the effort to take me skiing early in my childhood. I played hockey, too, but when I turned 15, skiing no longer took a back seat. I worked part-time jobs to fund lift tickets, while my father’s job at Air Canada allowed me to travel to resorts in the United States and Canada, the French Alps and the Andes in Chile. I competed on a mogul ski team and went on backcountry adventures.

I studied computer science in university and landed a full-time job for a software company in downtown Montreal. Not long into it, I realized I hated everything about that job and that career. I dreamed about skiing – but could I make a living at it? I had no one to ask, and felt as if I was trying to unlock the mysteries of the universe.

While at my desk one day, I stumbled upon an online ad looking for a ski guide in Utah. Wait, what? A ski guide? Not an instructor, but someone who leads people safely through the backcountry? Suddenly I saw a job worth pursuing. Breaking into this new industry, however, would prove to be more difficult than I expected.

When I began the five-year process to become a ski guide certified by Association of Canadian Mountain Guides (ACMG), it did not surprise me that I was the only brown person in the classes or on the mountain. (Ever notice skiers in North America are mostly white?) I thought that was irrelevant – I was there to learn and excel. It soon dawned on me, however, that while I didn’t see myself as different, others in the guiding community did.

In 2009, I was a newly certified ACMG apprentice ski guide. I excitedly applied for many ski guiding positions – but without success. When an avalanche technician job at Rogers Pass, B.C., opened at Parks Canada, I applied. This would be a good place to learn from a storied avalanche-control program and backcountry rescue team. This hiring process was different, too – as a government position, it used a points system to help eliminate bias in hiring. Of the 79 other applicants, I ranked first. I was ecstatic to be offered the opportunity.

My elation was quickly smothered by rumours that my brown skin had earned me the job. Eight years of hard work had prepared me for that interview, and yet people devalued my efforts by calling it a diversity hire. My accomplishment was undermined by racism within my own skiing community. I saw then that I was still not considered as an equal.

In my guiding career, I have felt scrutinized more than my peers and constantly had to prove myself even to those who know me. I have noticed the skeptical expression of a client seeing me for the first time. I have felt unwarranted distrust at work. I’ve been passed over for positions that were given to people who were less qualified. I’ve had offensive language and belittling behaviour directed at me. These aggressions devalued me as a human simply because of the colour of my skin. I was often made to feel like an outsider inside my own country.

The Canadian guiding community is now working to address discrimination, bias and inequality – but we still have a ways to go. Achieving diversity means ensuring athletes and enthusiasts of different backgrounds are supported by ski equipment and clothing companies. It means reducing out-of-reach lift-ticket prices at major ski resorts to welcome not just those who are wealthy.

If we truly want diversity, then all people need to see themselves reflected and represented in the outdoor life.

I am grateful that I can pursue my passion. As a guide, I have forged countless close friendships and been taught by wonderful mentors. I have witnessed the rawness of the Canadian wilderness and developed a deep respect, appreciation and love of the natural world.

I still have much to learn and I gladly accept criticism that will help me improve as a person and as a professional. But the prejudice I have experienced has left an indelible mark on me.

Have these experiences left me angry? At times, yes. They’ve also taught me a lot about myself and about other people. I have always disliked confrontation, but I have learned it is necessary to use my voice to expose and prevent negative situations from occurring again.

Did I ever want to give up my goal? No. I love skiing powder and sharing it with others too much to let ignorance and narrowmindedness get in the way.