THE IMMIGRANT

 
Image source: pngtree

Image source: pngtree

"F*ck you, immigrant!"

These three words loaded with hate and vitriol came barrelling toward me as I pushed my infant son in his stroller one frigid day last February. My initial reaction was to freeze, no pun intended. Could this complete stranger be talking to...me? But there was no mistake about it. The words left his mouth like spit - vile and contemptuous. His intent pointed and malicious. He wanted me to know that I was the intended target of his tirade. I could feel the repulsion reverberating off him as he shoved his way past me on the tiny portion of passable sidewalk – the rest blocked by a small mountain of snow.

My attacker was, by all likelihood, emboldened by the current climate of anti-immigration spilling across our southern border and percolating across the Atlantic. He had been convinced that I was one of them. The burden to society; the insatiable mouth suckling at the teat of public funds. In his mind, I was assuming space and exhausting resources to which I had no claim.

"A pity he doesn't know I was born in Toronto", I thought as I continued. And then I had the sudden urge to cry. Which I did. But then I had the urge to contemplate what it means to be an immigrant. Literally, and figuratively.

This humble word which once symbolized a daring dream to leave all that is familiar behind in search for a better life for oneself and one’s family has become a loaded subject, dividing families and countries. Today, the word ‘immigrant’ and the affinity for or aversion to it, is the cornerstone upon which many an election campaign is built on the rock against which it can fall apart. It is the ace of spades which politicians wield as they must to sway the fickle electorate.

It is interesting to note that as at the last census in 2016, my borough is made up of some 25,000 immigrants representing 20% of the total population. It is also interesting to note that of that total number of immigrants, 36% (some 9,000 plus) have arrived from predominantly white countries – Portugal, France and the United States. Simply put, more than a quarter of my borough’s immigrant population is…or more than likely is…white. And by mere virtue of their being white, they are afforded the courtesy of acclimating to the comforts of Canadian life. No more questions asked.

It appears to me that, perhaps the problem everyone has with immigration isn’t immigration at all. But it's what we imagine immigration is. And more importantly, who we imagine an immigrant is. We’ve been force-fed…and subsequently, have digested the idea that an immigrant is different. If we really want to get into semantics, we can consider the differences between immigrants and expats. We’ve been conditioned to believe that an immigrant is, or should be, undesirable. That they will bring with them their strange customs and that they will come to steal jobs. Meanwhile, expats living abroad (who are mostly white) outearn their local counterparts up to 900%. We say to immigrants, “Assimilate or go back where you came from!”, meanwhile expats live in bubbles, well insulated from the realities of life in their new countries with very little, if any desire or effort to assimilate.  We can quickly establish that immigrants and expats are perceived very differently even though they leave their home countries to live and work elsewhere for much of the same reason. And that is as direct a result of the meanings we ascribe to the two words. And the preconceived notions that we attribute to them.

I would imagine that Americans don’t think of Justin Bieber or Ryan Gosling as immigrants. Because they fit the bill. They are not other. Likewise, the white American and French immigrants here don’t have to contend with verbal attacks on sidewalks whilst going about their business. And let me be clear: this isn’t about me. To be fair, this was the very first time I’ve been made to feel like I did not belong here. And I am very aware that I am what would be considered as a ‘palatable’ immigrant. English is my first language. I do not have a thick accent. I am fair-skinned. I am not muslim. I do not wear a burqa or hijab. This is about the countless number of immigrants who are shamed and harassed and attacked because they do not blend in so easily. And they shouldn’t have to.

It is time we redefine the way we think about, and unlearn what we’ve been taught about, immigrants. I know there is no shame in being an immigrant.  But for one fleeting instant I did feel ashamed. It’s been several months post-incident now and I’ve had ample time to reflect. And if there’s any good that has come from this run-in, it’s that my immigrant pride has been reignited.

It was the dream of immigrants that allowed me a Canadian birthright. The sweat and perseverance of immigrants that put me through college. The unwavering support and friendship of immigrants that consoled me when I was at my lowest. The drive and hustle of immigrants that inspire me daily. But it is without a doubt, the grit and indomitable spirit of immigrants, unrelentless  and thriving,  that make me most proud…to be an immigrant.

I'VE BEEN SUFFERING IN SILENCE

 

I recently heard somewhere that the conversation surrounding mental health is "like a pot brimming beneath the surface of public consciousness". Well, this is in an effort to remove the lid.

I started having depressive thoughts when I was sixteen. I had just immigrated to Canada and I just hated my life. I felt alone, I felt ugly, I felt useless...worthless. My self-esteem was non-existent. In a desperate cry for attention I tried to kill myself. I ended up in the hospital and had to have my stomach pumped. I thank my lucky stars that I wasn't successful. I know now that I really didn't want to die but at the time, I felt there was no way out. After that, I sought professional help for the first time. And I've sought professional help as recently as last year.  

Now that I have a family of my own, I am no longer living for myself. I do not ever want to feel like...dying is the only solution. I do not want to ever feel like leaving my beautiful children without a mother is the only way out. Which is why I have taken the steps, albeit sometimes with a bit of prodding, to seek the help I know I need.

I, too, was...and to be completely honest, still am ashamed to talk about my struggle with anxiety and depression. Even as I type these words, I wonder if I'll actually post this. Will it change people's perception of me? Will it taint people's perception of me? Maybe it will. But if my doing this resonates with anyone, or encourages anyone to seek help - whether just speaking to a friend or loved one or professional - then it will be well worth the unease of sharing such a personal story.

On the heels of public figure's suicide and the revelation that she chose not to seek treatment for her bipolar disorder in fear of tarnishing her brand, the importance of making mental health a priority has never been more pressing. It is unfortunate that it takes such a tragic event to bring the issue of mental health to the forefront. And let's be honest, there are millions of regular people, just like you and me, who commit suicide every year because, like me, they felt there is no way out. People who have been ostracized , simply for being unwell. We have a serious epidemic and it will only get worse if we leave things as they are. If we don't take the lid off the pot.

This is not an issue for the poor, or the homeless, or rich people who don't know what to do with their money. This is not an issue for adults. More than ever, children are struggling with mental health.  The truth is, everyone has been affected in some way. Which is why I think we should all champion this cause. Reach out to the people in your circles. Talk about your own experiences. Let’s end the stigma. If we aren't ashamed of saying we have the flu, or diabetes or asthma...we shouldn't be ashamed to talk about mental health. Because mental health is health. 

Don't suffer in silence.

MYTHS ABOUT TURNING THIRTY

 
Turning 30 means you don't care that they've mispelled your name in your "Happy Birthday" message

Turning 30 means you don't care that they've mispelled your name in your "Happy Birthday" message

Thirty. 

It still sounds...almost foreign to me, yet for four whole months now I’ve been thirty. That’s right. The big 3-0. Kinda like twenty, but...plus ten. This means I can no longer take comfort in the fact that I can still refer to myself as the ambiguous twenty-something. So now I’m referring to myself as a millennial.

I remember after twenty five, with each passing year, thirty seemed looming and ominous. Strangely enough, I didn’t have nearly as much anxiety and apprehension about turning thirty as I did about turning twenty-seven. And my anxiety and apprehension about turning twenty-seven was brought on by the fact that...I was almost thirty. Strange, isn’t it?

I will say, though, that it did feel bittersweet. My twenties were such a time of coming-of-age, as I imagine is true for anyone. A time of...mistakes, and lessons learnt, and self-discovery and growth and maturity. And even though it did make me a bit sad to say goodbye to my twenties, I was ready. Ready to move on to the next chapter of my life and excited about what my thirties would bring me.

Now that I’m four months into thirty, I’m sharing my wisdom. Dropping gems, as the young people say these days. Here are my thoughts from this side of thirty.

MYTH 1.    You Should Have It All Figured Out

I think age thirty might be considered the quintessential, ‘grown-up’ age. Which, I suppose, is why society expects and perpetuates the idea that this is the age when we ought to have all our ducks in a row. Well, let me be the first to say that I, a proud millennial thirty-year old, most certainly do not have it all figured out. And my ducks are so not in a row...heck, I don’t even know where my ducks are. To be quite frank, some days I am still struggling to find my footing, but aren’t we all at some point or another? What does having it all figured out even mean, anyway? I suppose ranking high on some predetermined, one-size-fits-all benchmark of success and happiness. Here’s what’s important: Am I happy? Yes. Am I where I want to be? No, not yet. Do I have a plan to get there? Absolutely! The rest...I’ll figure out at my own pace. Imagine how monotonous life would be if everyone had it all figured out at thirty?!

MYTH 2.    If It Hasn’t Happened Yet, It’ll Never Happen

Again, the ridiculous societal ideal that thirty is the age where...poof!...everything should fall right into place and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again. You’ve got to have the dream career by thirty. Buy a house by thirty. Get married by thirty. Have a baby by thirty. Start eating your veggies at thirty. Geeze, can we just...live???  See #3.

MYTH 3.    It’s Too Late To <insert aspiration here>

Go back to school. Start a business. Learn how to swim. Grow your edges back. There’s no time like the present, if you’re thirty or nineteen. Or forty or fifty. There are so many inspiring stories of people that only started to flourish in their professional and/or personal lives after thirty.  I’ll be completely honest; I was one those people who was obsessed with ticking boxes off before turning thirty. Well, guess what? I’ve turned thirty and a number of those boxes remain unticked. Guess what else? I have every intention of ticking those boxes off, one by one. Maybe in six months. Maybe in a year, who knows? What I do know is that I won’t place limitations on myself. Certainly not when I’m only thirty.

MYTH 4.    You’ll Feel Like A  Real Grown Up

In a lot of ways, I still have a lot in common with my 10 year old self. I still enjoy Scooby-Doo. I still live for gummy candies. I draw a princess, and trees and flowers the same way I did then. I still read the last page of a book before a I start. And you know what, I like it! Of course now, I’m a mom and a partner, and I pay bills and do groceries, and plan meals and make doctor’s and dentist’s appointments, and attend parent-teacher evenings and work meetings but I still don’t feel grown up. And I'm not so sure that I want to. 

MYTH 5.    Thirty Is The New Twenty

Please stop lying to these good people! Thirty is most certainly not the new twenty. Never has been, never will be.  If you don’t believe me, ask my knees.  I think this ‘thirty is the new twenty’ business is a coping mechanism for people who aren’t quite ready to say goodbye to their twenties. Or a feeble attempt at trying to stave off time's inevitable passage. Both of which I think are unhealthy. I think a successful transition from one phase life to the next means being able to let go of what was and look forward to what's to come. Clinging on is never a good thing. Our collective fixation with staying "forever young" certainly doesn't help.  But the fact is, even if you look and feel like twenty, thirty is...thirty. And I am A-Ok with that. At twenty I was naive, timid, full of self-doubt and, like most twenty year-olds, struggling to find my place and voice. Now at thirty, I'm more at ease with myself than I've ever been. More accepting of myself than I've ever been. Do I ever feel nostalgic about being twenty? You betcha! Oh, to be twenty again? No, thank you very much!

So, to sum up, thirty is...not as scary as it is made out to be. I haven't shriveled away into obscurity nor have I lost my zest for life. If anything, I'm happier, more motivated and more at peace than I've ever been. Thirty is pretty darn good, you ask me. I really feel like my best is yet to come. 

Cheers to thirty! 

 

LET'S LEAVE THESE THINGS IN 2017, SHALL WE?

 
Screenshot_2018-01-11-23-31-21_1.jpg

With the clamour and excitement of the holidays already 12 days (!!) behind us and the routine of life settling in once again, the sentimentality of new year's resolutions has waned for most. As mentioned in my previous post, I did not make any resolutions but I did spend quite a bit of time reflecting on 2017. While some of the best things in my life came to fruition last year, I am still very aware that I was not at my best in many areas of my life. And that is my only real goal for 2018 and beyond. To be my best self. And in order to be my best self, there are some habits that I need to leave behind. Frankly, I think everyone should leave these energy-sucking habits behind. We'd all be better for it.

1. GIVING F*CKS

This might be the hardest one because, unfortunately for me, I was born a f*ck giver. I gave waaayyy too many f*cks in 2017. And in 2016. And every year before that. If I had a penny for every f*ck I gave, I'd have enough to retire on my own private island. But I'm just over it! Over being consumed with what people might say or think. Over wanting to be liked. Over anything that takes away from me living my best life. I’m officially out of f*cks to give.

 2. COMPARING YOURSELF

"Comparison is the thief of joy". I discovered this quote by Theodore Roosevelt a few years ago and it has resonated with me ever since. I think this is something that most millenials probably struggle with in today’s hyper-competitive, look-at-how-awesome-my-life-is world. The funny thing is that if we took the time to actually be present in our own lives we’d appreciate the beauty of what is ours and no one else’s, and realize that there is more than enough room for us all. There’s absolutely no reason for anyone else’s success or accomplishments to take away from my happiness or diminish my success. You don’t need to compete with anyone. You are you and that is your power.

3. SETTLING FOR MEDIOCRITY

There are way too many people walking amongst us, completely oblivious to their mediocrity. Or even worse, completely content in their mediocrity. Completely unaware of the power they have to change their own lives. Let’s not be one of those people. Can we all stop settling for good enough? Let’s not be lazy about our dreams. Let’s not be lax about our goals. Let’s be great this year, yes?

4. BEING UNORIGINAL

I don’t know about you but I am sick of seeing someone on my Instagram feed who looks like someone else who looks like someone else who looks exactly like someone else. Or every other song on the radio that sounds like the other song which is a sample of another song from the 80s. Everything is all so much...the same. It’s so uninspiring. Whatever happened to doing your own thing? Being unique? Standing out? It’s so funny how everyone says “Do you, I’ll do me”. Ok, well do you then! Not her, YOU! Shoot, I’m about to do me like I’ve never been done before. Wait... that didn’t sound right. But..you know what I mean!

5.  LIVING IN ECHO CHAMBERS

You know what, I think 2017 was a year that, for many obvious reasons, tilted the balance in a way which hadn’t been seen before. Certainly not in my lifetime. There were all these extremely polarizing opinions about everything under the sun and God forbid if you share your opinion on the wrong side of Facebook. I think a healthy dialogue is of such great importance, especially as it concerns coexisting with those who we may not see eye to eye with. And in order for such a dialogue to happen, we all need to be a bit more open to listening, even when we may not agree. The fact is this is where we are and we need to find a way to get to where we need to be. And that certainly won’t happen if we’re all shoving our heads in the sand.

Let's leave everything that's holding us back, weighing us down and stealing our joy in 2017. Let's make 2018 a year of Love and Light. And good vibes only.