“I hold a master’s degree in Community Development from London, England, and spent eight dedicated years working with the United Nations in his homeland—years filled with purpose, pride, and service. But when political insurgency engulfed my country, I was forced to make a choice no parent should ever face. With a heavy heart, I left behind not just a promising career and the only home I had ever known, but also my aging mother—her hands trembling as she waved goodbye—and the land that had shaped me. I did it all for one reason: to offer my 3-year-old daughter a chance at a safer, brighter future in Canada. The weight of that decision was profound. My father, devastated by the news of my departure, passed away shortly after, unable to bear the pain of separation. Every step forward carries the echo of what was left behind.
When I landed in Canada on May 4th, the first two weeks felt like a dream. The snow-dusted streets, the friendly faces, the promise of a new beginning. I had studied the labor market carefully before coming; my profession was in demand, and I was confident I would find work quickly. But after applying to over 40 jobs, I got only one interview—and no offer.
As my savings dwindled, desperation set in. I took a survival job at a car rental company, washing cars and cleaning the washroom for minimum wage. Every day, I scrubbed over 50 cars and cleaned 2 washrooms, my hands raw and my spirit broken. With each car, I cursed myself for leaving behind everything I knew, for uprooting my family, for chasing a dream that now felt like a mirage.
The job was precarious as there was no contract, no sick pay, and no vacation. I recorded my hours on a scrap of paper, my employer’s indifference was a constant reminder of my vulnerability. I worked through fevers, through exhaustion, through 15-hour shifts in the summer heat with only a 30-minute break to eat. The overtime pay I was owed never came.
During this time, I found solace in the Ethnocultural Council of Calgary (now ActionDignity). It was there that I poured out my frustrations and found a community that understood my struggles. I began participating in policy advocacy for racialized immigrants, channelling my pain into action. While still working at the car rental company, I enrolled in university, determined to rebuild my life.
I earned a master’s in social work and became a registered social worker. Finally, I found stability in a job that honored my skills and experience. Yet, even as I rebuilt my life, I couldn’t forget the struggles I endured.
Today, I advocate for racialized immigrants, many of whom face the same exploitation and precarious conditions I once did. I see their pain, their resilience, their hope. And I wonder when the system will change? When will the promise of a better life in Canada become a reality for everyone?
I still dream of my daughter’s future, but now my dream is bigger. It’s a dream of justice, of equity, of a world where no one has to wash cars to survive while their potential goes unrecognized. And I won’t stop fighting until that dream comes true. “
P.A.