Laying down the Tracks for Black Unity: Ronnie Rowe Jr., Mouna Traoré and Olunike Adeliyi of The Porter Talk About Black Canadian History, Character Preparation and Staying True to Themselves
Photography: Roya DelSol / Set Design: Leah Sammy / Styling & Production: Jode-Leigh Nembhard / Hair: Tracy Evans and Sean Johnson's Hair Boss The Legacy / Makeup: Nicole Guthrie / Videography & Editing: Angana Ananya / Camera Assist: Aaron Clarke
The dark brown worn-out hardwood floor of the Adelaide Street studio is what I noticed first. Oddly, the floor, the least of anybody’s worries, is what tells people you’ve arrived. The creak, shuffle and scratch tell a story of movement. In this cozy Adelaide Street studio, Black Canadian creatives captured the on- and off-screen synergy between actors in a Black North American television series.
Toned’s visionaries added a vibrant lens to the CBC and BET+ original series, The Porter, one of Canada’s largest Black-led TV series. Two pools of Black talent coming together in one room spoke to the energy and commitment to Black Canadian stories that are quickly taking up space on your TV screens. That’s what happens when a Black-led writers room is created––its impact seeps into other projects and initiatives like this one. This editorial shoot showed how we want to be viewed and represented everywhere.
We were represented in that Adelaide studio. I could practically smell it––the smoky burn of a curling iron making majestic waves on a frontal wig, the buzz of hair clippers getting the perfect fade, a testament of trust in Black brotherhood, and the darker shades of foundation that laid in preparation to complement, not take away, from the brown skin galore that sat in the chair.
Our skin and its stories did the talking. The simplicity of the photoshoot layout made it known that the wooden crate, donut-shaped vase with a yellow flower and leaves and the yellow and blue floral-print vintage cloth were simply accessories. These three Black and flourishing Canadian actors had an acting palette that created a visible footprint and gave off main character energy.
Issa Rae’s iconic statement at the 2017 Emmys, “I’m rooting for everybody Black,” kept ringing reminders as I looked around. It was a reminder of what Blackness looks like with support. Although the Black experience is not a monolith, I can find comfort in knowing that someone who looks like me has redefined narratives that attempt to fit us in the same box. Excelling beyond the constraints our skin has put us in is always worthy of praise. The creative minds behind The Porter did the same, and the eight-episode series based on a North American civil movement, the forming of North America's first Black labour union, and other true events is what Canadians are going to find comfort this month.
Centralizing Black Canadian History
When I first heard about The Porter, I immediately thought of Clement Virgo and Damon D’Oliveira’s The Book Of Negroes. The CBC original series hooked me into the nuances of Canadian history with Black Loyalists in Nova Scotia and an undeniable connection to our African roots.
Seven years later, we dive into the 1920s in Montreal’s Black community of St. Antoine–now called Little Burgundy (La Petite-Bourgogne)–also known as “The Harlem of the North.” We follow the journey of former soldiers, now train porters, Junior Massey and Zeke Garrett. Both take two different paths after the death of a fellow porter sends them a wake-up call that shapes how the rest of their life will span out. They use their voices to assemble agency for their rights but with different agendas. Junior and Zeke navigate friendship, love and family in a world of oppression. The series also takes place in Chicago and Detroit.
We also get a taste of the community surrounding Junior and Zeke, Montreal’s jazz hub Little Burgundy, a sprinkle of Black jazz with TV musical layers. With access to the railways, the developing community showed the intersection of African Americans, Black Canadians and West Indians finding employment on the trains and cultivating homes through their culture. This community pocket centralized the access railways gave to people, ideas, other cultures and more. However, with access comes great responsibility to ensure that the boundaries set are not being pushed over by dominating forces like the white gaze. The team behind The Porter showed that this was more than a history lesson but the active reality of their off-screen challenges.
From the writer’s room to the screen, executives, directors, and writers of the show are betting on themselves, an open opportunity to tap into the fruition of an all Black-led and creative team rallying behind this series. The Porter was created by Arnold Pinnock and Bruce Ramsay with Annmarie Morais, Marsha Greene and Aubrey Nealon. Morais and Greene are showrunners and executive producers, and Charles Officer and R.T. Thorne are the directors and executive producers. Pinnock also serves as an executive producer and Ramsay as a co-executive producer. The series is written by Morais, Greene, Andrew Burrows-Trotman, Priscilla White, Pinnock and Ramsay, with Thorne participating in the writers’ room.
“From its inception, The Porter has been a humbling, intriguing and thought-provoking endeavour. Because of its historical and cultural relevance, the show has been a milestone for The Porter team,” shares Arnold Pinnock. “It has challenged us to reach a higher bar of excellence and awareness. In doing so, it has graciously empowered each and every department on the show with a sense of pride, within The Porter family.”
Bigger Risk, Greater Reward
As one of the few jobs available to Black men at the time, a railway porter catered to the needs of travellers. Black men across Canada, the U.S., the Caribbean and more were hired as sleeping car porters for Canadian railway companies. According to the Canadian Museum for Human Rights (CMHR), “They were responsible for greeting passengers, stowing baggage, setting up berths in the evening, converting berths to seats in the morning, shining shoes, brushing off coats and hats, looking after sick children and adults.” The list goes on, and with extensive hours came little pay–a scarce transaction Black families relied on as Black men were employed as porters from the late 19th century to the mid-1950s.
With education on their belt, a serving role is not what Black men deserved. However, society forced them back into the position of servants, afraid that if they exercised their liberty, they would witness a renaissance of change, not waiting for white validation. As Zeke spearheads the mobilization of a Black union, the Brotherhood of Sleeping Porters, to fight for better wages and conditions, he’s met with resistance from wealthy forces.
Zeke’s risk of bettering the unity of Black porters and their job showed just how far he was willing to take care of his community, especially how vulnerable he saw it during World War I. CMHR explains that “prior to unionization, porters could be fired at any time without a reason. A complaint from a passenger was sometimes enough to get a porter dismissed at the end of a run.” Walking on eggshells was all too familiar for Blacks in the 19th century. The fear of losing one’s job was a feeling many in the Black community experienced as they were poorly treated, but finding another job that allowed Blacks was another battle on its own.
Viciously living through the experience of Black brotherhood, The Porter and its connection to Black culture and underrepresented stories tell a tale of resilience in the face of hardships. Since the Canadian Brotherhood of Railroad Employees (CBRE) union would not accept Black porters, the 1917 union Order of Sleeping Car Porters (OSCP) became the first Black North America labour union. It was established in Winnipeg by porters John Arthur Robinson, J.W. Barber, B.F. Jones and P. White. Despite years of racial discrimination from Canadian national railway management, the OSCP improved job protections and higher wages for white and Black porters.
After discrediting the OSCP in 1939, the establishment of the U.S. Brotherhood of Sleeping Porters (BSCP) located a reinforced need for better working conditions. Initially private until May 1945, the BSCP implemented a monthly salary increase, two weeks of paid vacation after one year of service, overtime pay and a reserved berth on each car, giving porters a place to sleep. But, of course, better working benefits didn’t erase the systemic racial discrimination that occurred. Yet, their fight for agency laid down the train tracks for what Black unity can achieve.
Different Era, Same Vision
The storyline of Zeke Garrett, played by Ronnie Rowe Jr., centralizes the BSCP and shows us the underground work of a determined Black man. I saw parallels between Zeke and Ronnie after meeting Ronnie in person. Getting a haircut in the middle of chaos and bantering with his barber told me that Ronnie was always ready. Even when my questions threw him for a loop, like why he chose Zeke instead of Junior, Ronnie answered with care, “The leadership really reminded me of MLK and Malcolm X. I always kind of wanted to play those characters. Then when I saw Zeke, he doesn't have the same name but what he represents is exactly the same thing that those men represented.”
Resilience. Empathy. Grit. Those are the words that came to mind when Ronnie talked about such similarities. These words can be applied to Ronnie’s arc. Ronnie starred in The Wizard of Oz, Grease, and Oliver Twist with a background in theatre. Ronnie credits his theatre days to the deep preparation he’s learned, which explains to me his always-ready demeanour. “I feel with, sometimes, film and television, you can pump the brakes a little more because you have the luxury of ‘cut.’ Theatre, if you don't know, you're gonna get caught on stage looking like a fool. So it definitely taught me deep preparation, doing justice to words, and taking them off the page.”
Upon getting into film and television, Ronnie’s acting career took off and set the precedent for what roles he enjoyed playing and what the film industry needed. I asked Ronnie if anything significant about his acting journey led to this moment with The Porter, and he told me that he feels like he already played Zeke because of how his previous roles mirrored the drive to protect. “That's why unionization is such a big thing to [Zeke]––because he wants to protect people that he loves,” Ronnie observed.
Ronnie added that the time frame is different, so he must change how “visceral” he can be.
“You have to be very particular about how you show the anger,” Ronnie said. It may be easy to conjure up reasons to be angry and get in that headspace; look around you. The world has been in lockdown since what feels like the 1920s, and marginalized communities still get the leftovers and are directly impacted by the decisions of higher forces. However, despite this, Ronnie throws a comment that makes me laugh “Even on set, everyone almost wants to smile at me, I’m like, yo, this is the 1920s, you can’t be smiling like that.” We both share a laugh because I would expect the opposite, considering the state of the world is crumbling. But it’s refreshing to know that smiling is a part of some people’s instincts.
Zeke’s guilt of not saving his father creates a pattern of making up for that guilt through leadership. Ronnie says Zeke doesn’t want to assume that role (probably because of fear of failure, I say), but it gets brought on him. Embodying these qualities means tapping into his spiritual belief, Ronnie tells me. “I think it's very much just walking the path of righteousness and being an example. I think that's why [Zeke] carries himself the way that he does because he knows that people look up to him. I think he got that from his father; he saw his father as this very powerful statuettes type person. I really feel that Zeke has a good heart,” Ronnie detailed.
Ronnie talks about Zeke like he’s a close friend rather than the character he plays. When I asked Ronnie what the most challenging part about reenacting Zeke’s role was, his response made me think about every Black historical series I’ve seen and every Black actor featured. “Reliving the trauma of certain situations,” Ronnie answered without hesitation. “Just having to relive just even a fraction of what they had to go through because you have to truly feel it when it’s happening,” he added.
As viewers, we have the luxury of watching from a perspective of comfort. But there are also layers of trauma that we experience, which makes us equally as uncomfortable as Black viewers. Yet Black actors like Ronnie have to repeat scenes, and sometimes those scenes are real-life experiences that Black people had to experience and still do. “The complete disregard to being seen as a person. It’s something that still happens, but it was turned all the way up in the 1920s,” Ronnie said.
Despite the trauma, there are pockets of hope shining through and relaying a message to a younger audience. The Porter is sending many messages. “We touch every corner,” said Annamarie Morais, one of the writers of the series, to NOW Magazine. “The struggles within ourselves, the struggles beyond ourselves and the struggles of the world at large,” said Morais. For Ronnie, the message is about fighting for what you believe in, which Zeke defines throughout the show. “But also be strategic about your fight. Fighting doesn’t always mean swinging a punch. It means planning, preparing and executing intellectually. You have to know the arena which you’re playing in to succeed,” said Ronnie. Zeke leads this by example; it’s not about being the strongest or biggest. It’s about the things you can’t see, your mindset, that gets you far. “We’re capable of doing great things, and we have a lot of obstacles, but persistence is everything,” Ronnie told me.
That’s what all four main characters have in common: persistence. They pursue liberation in different ways and believe changing the world and its views is not a far-off thought. Although we see independence, we also follow the journey of Black brotherhood. Zeke and Junior are on different paths as friends and colleagues but want the same thing: communal liberty. As soldiers in WW1, Zeke and Junior have an unbreakable bond. Fighting a war that used Black bodies as a shield for the damage that awakened the world was a journey they took together. Now in a different war, the racial discrimination in the Canadian railway landscape and beyond, they are fighting for visibility and justice. Junior has evolved into something different than who Zeke knew before, and in an attempt to hold on to the old Junior, their journeys sometimes clash. For starters, they both love the same woman, Marlene Massey.
Healing Wounded Hearts
Marlene Massey, played by Mouna Traoré, is a woman with a gift of healing. She was healing the wounds of Black bodies facing disparities in wars and healing hearts filled with trauma that sometimes hurt far worse than wounds. When Mouna tells me about Marlene, there are many things worth noting, but what stands out are the words used to describe Marlene: defiant and disruptive. “She finds creative and interesting ways to get what she wants and to influence and create change,” Mouna said. As a Black woman in the 1920s, Marlene had no choice but to get creative with her ambitions in fighting against gender discrimination. Black women were silenced by the voices of white men and women, and even their husbands, uncles, and brothers took a superior role in the community.
Born and raised in Little Burgundy, Marlene has grown with her community. But, unfortunately, she’s had front row seats to the epidemics, like the Spanish Flu, that sent waves of fear throughout the community. This propelled her to join Black Cross Nurses (BCN), an auxiliary group within Marcus Garvey’s United Negro Improvement Association (UNIA).
Mouna is soft-spoken, not only in her voice but her aura––it’s comforting and makes me want to pry her for more, which she willingly gives. Mouna was born and raised in Toronto to immigrant parents from Mali and Haiti. Her recent roles include Netflix’s original series, Self Made, starring Octavia Spencer, and The Umbrella Academy. In previous years, she’s also played Vanessa Hastings on BET’s In Contempt and Ruby Goodchild on the Starz Network’s American Gods.
“I went to the University of Toronto for Caribbean Studies and African Studies, and I've always reached into history to have an understanding of myself,” Mouna told me when I asked her how it felt to be a part of a prominent conversation of Black Canadian history. “When I first saw the script and the concept for the show, I was totally taken by that. Because [it’s] something that I've been waiting for my whole life and something I know that my younger self would have really appreciated watching.”
It’s inspiring to know that this could become a learning outlet for the younger generation, a push to probe their own stories, no matter how far. Mouna agreed and said it’s a message that our stories matter. “I think it offers us an opportunity to really connect with the history of our elders, and some of our ancestors, but whether you're descended from people who recently migrated from Jamaica or people who are several generations back as Black Canadian, it sends the message that we all came from somewhere,” Mouna observed.
Mouna’s character, Marlene, embodies this––the epitome of connecting with a foundation far greater than yourself. Mouna described Marlene as a pioneer and her ability to nurture the strong Black woman spirit. Yet, despite the great things Mouna raved about in Marlene, she said it was a challenge given Mouna’s soft and vulnerable personality that may not be an exact match for Marlene. But that’s the beauty of it.
Women like Marlene were found in the BCN. The UNIA had several cultural hubs across Canada and BCN divisions. Without professional training, members of the BCN provided care and advice about health and hygiene. In 1919, UNIA divisions opened in Montreal and Toronto. In larger cities like Toronto, the BCN took St. John Ambulance courses for better education, curated information on topics such as first aid and public safety and sent them out in pamphlets and newsletters. The BCN also sent flowers and paid visits to comfort the sick in their home or in a hospital.
The rich history of Black sisterhood in the BCN is enticing, pools of information that I had never known and will grace our screens shortly. Yet, we often get a load of Black American history that is equally as important but sometimes overshadows Black Canadian roots. I spoke to Mouna about her thoughts, and she said, “The show is the perfect example of us creating an opportunity so that we can retain talent, take up space, and take ownership of our own stories rather than waiting for someone outside of Canada to want to tell it.” That’s why Black Canadian actors like Mouna need to be a part of this particular time.
There are moments in our conversation that tell me more about Mouna than the topic of the series, like her preferred drink, a coconut matcha latte or a non-dairy matcha latte. As the hairstylist puts a wig cap over Mouna’s cornrows and applies the holding glue, Mouna says, “This is my first time doing a frontal,” before ushering me to take a picture of her posing so she can send it to a friend. I smile, knowing the slew of messages will end up being lovestruck emojis or endless praise for trying something new and winning in our versatility. I tell her she’ll be fine, recalling the first time I wore a frontal wig––that was hot bubblegum pink, and you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. Mouna’s randomness is almost innocent, like saying the things on her mind are a way to cope with the unknown of what’s going around her. She compliments my nails, an array of nude tones, and I plug in who did them for me. I could tell if I were to pick any topic in the world, she would have something to say.
Queen of the Gamble
Olunike Adeliyi and the character she plays, Miss Queenie, are the same person in my eyes. After talking with her in less than five minutes, you can feel the passion that vibrates off of her and seeps into your energy. It’s contagious and liberating all at the same time. Based on a real-life character, Stephanie St. Clair, dubbed the Numbers Queen of Harlem, Miss Queenie is the definition of the queen of the gamble. Miss Queenie takes risks based on her mantra, “Act rich and fortune will follow,” a die-hard statement only meant for the strong-willed.
Miss Queenie has crossed former lovers and never looked back. Her hunger for power comes with a vulnerability in men, something she doesn’t need but wants. As Junior Massey gets tied up in Miss Queenie’s crime webs, the chemistry between the two creates rifts that put Miss Queen’s gambling empire at stake. Olunike describes their dynamic as “electric” and “dangerous.” Their love for one another is a gamble in itself, each person waiting to see what move the other makes and how much they want to put in. The anticipation of watching it unfold will be highly entertaining for us.
I could only imagine how much of a handful Miss Queenie would be to play as a character, or where exactly to start. Olunike said she goes from the outside and doesn’t look at the dialogue right away. “I needed to build her backstory, like, you know, where did she come from? Why is she in America? How long did it take her to get here? What was her life like when she was in the Caribbean?” said Olunike. These all are valid questions that prepare us for the wild truth of Stephanie St. Clair’s story. St. Clair was born in Martinique, a French island, and raised by her single mother. Olunike told me that after doing her research, she discovered St. Clair was a descendant of the West African Dahomey Tribe, an all-female army whose purpose was to protect the King of Dahomey. She shared that The Woman King, a film starring Viola Davis, is based on this powerful tribe and coming to our screens this year.
According to Smithsonian Magazine, St. Clair came to North America for domestic work before landing in New York City in the early or mid-1920s. It is undeniable that St. Clair worked hard to build her gambling antics from scratch, from illegal lotteries to betting on policy slips. Black Americans were often denied bank loans and didn’t trust white-controlled banks, so they resorted to underground activities. Illegal lotteries were similar to putting money in the stock market––to some, an investment, and others, a risk. But you can imagine how St. Clair saw it; no risk was too big in her eyes.
“She's a Black female that was ahead of her time. She was the bank for the Black community because they weren't allowed to have bank accounts. She ran her numbers game, not just for her to be rich, but she understood what her assignment was,” said Olunike about Miss Queenie. You can tell Olunike is enriched with character information, and I can’t wait to see it come to life on screen. Olunike studies African History at the University of Toronto, and her second nature is research as she doesn’t shy away from facts. Olunike has studied Caribbean, British, European Black, and African American history. Now she’s waiting for Canadian history, which is grossly underrepresented, especially Black Canadian history. “My dream is that Black Canadian history is more celebrated and more showcased in the educational systems of Canada, especially in the primary levels, [and] all the way up to the university level,” said Olunike.
Olunike hopes that The Porter opens up more opportunities to learn Black Canadian history because the youth need this information. “Our families have always told us, especially Black families, if you don't know where you came from, you don't know where you're going,” said Olunike. Research and information put into context where they came from, paying homage to the people who came before them, and moving forward in this discovery.
Olunike goes on to explain her character preparation to me, and it’s interesting to hear the relationship to nature rationale, “I find like animals that would be indigenous to her . . . There's a method to the madness. How does she move? What animal does she move in? And by the time you get to the dialogue, it falls off the page. There's no memorization needed, none. And we're all animals, right? We all have an animal in us. So it's about embracing what that underlay is.” Olunike said they came up with an owl to reference Miss. Queenie’s wisdom, slyness, and ability to shepherd and watch over a flock but stay in the shadows.
As a Canadian-Nigerian actress, Olunike exhibits a similar personality, but her energy is in your face. Her extensive acting journey starts with her big break in Flashpoint, where she played Officer Leah Kerns. You can also find Olunike in series like American Gods, Republic of Doyle, Little Dog and CBC’s Coroner. Her films include The Parting Glass, Saw 3D, She Never Died, Chaos Walking, and more. In February 2020, it was announced that Olunike would share the big screen with Ice Cube, Ryan Destiny and Judy Greer in Rachel Morrison’s Flint Strong.
I asked Olunike whether this was a full-circle moment, knowing that she was still leveraging outspoken qualities seen in her previous roles. She said no, and her remark made me glad I asked such a question, “I am grateful for all the moments, all the breakthroughs that I have had because it's led to this moment, which is going to lead to the next because it doesn't end here.” She made it clear that full circle is Cicely Tyson, a legendary actress who passed away last year.
Being a Black actress, Olunike said her responsibility has not changed. “My career has never been about self. It's never been about fame. It's always been about community and how we can open doors in many ways. It's just one portal that's going to be leading to the next. I recognized long ago what my power was, especially doing theatre, going to different schools and touring, having my natural black hair and seeing how the little Black girls looked at me. I embrace this responsibility, and it also comes with a lot of negativity, which I've managed to navigate this far. But I don't shy away from the battle. I am rebellious. So I will give them a run for their money,” said Olunike. It sounded like a line pulled out of Miss Queenie’s dialogue, followed by Olunike’s big hearty laugh.
With history behind each character and storylines intersecting profoundly, there is much to dive into with The Porter. Black brotherhood and sisterhood are coming to our screens and giving us authenticity. Something that has been missing in this stricken and fabricated world we seem to live in. This is just the beginning, where we get to see live in action the gift that comes from Black creatives here in Canada. They are essential and valued, and in times like this where I look around, and Blackness is unhinged in a studio on Adelaide Street, in the core of downtown on a Saturday afternoon, I remember that I’m experiencing Black Canadian history with every moment that passes.
The Porter is set to premiere February 21 at 9 p.m. (9:30 p.m. Newfoundland time) on CBC TV and will also be available on CBC Gem, CBC's streaming service.