When my family moved to Canada in the 1990s, this country was a very different place. As newcomers, we felt the weight of being different. My brother and I didn’t speak a word of English and we stood out—not just because of the language barrier, but also because there were very few other kids at our school who looked like us. At recess, kids would hover around us, stare, whisper, laugh. We didn’t belong and felt it deeply.
I hated going to school. Every day was a battle to get through without being mocked or excluded. I spent most of my energy trying to stay invisible. But everything began to change when one or two classmates made the effort to connect with me. They invited me to play football, helped me with classwork and spoke to me like I mattered. They saw how I was being treated and chose to do something about it. I didn’t realize it at the time, but those classmates were allies.
Because of them, I started to feel comfortable. I began to look forward to school. I made my first real friends in Canada. They didn’t judge me, but instead made me feel welcome. That experience taught me the profound impact an ally can have. An ally can be the reason someone feels safe. Seen. Human. At home.
Today, I stand as an ally in honour of those first friends who made me feel like I belonged. I promise to be that kind of presence for others, including the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community. In my work as faculty and a Human Resources professional, I am committed to removing barriers, challenging systemic discrimination and creating spaces where people are free to be who they are.
That is my promise to you. You deserve to feel safe, respected and at home. I will do my part to help make that happen.