Personal Narrative: My First Moving To Canada

I was excited to talk to Ajaz, my best friend from the age of four to thirteen again. We’d had an inconsistent friendship (though we’d never fallen out) over those nine years: from spending every class and break together for our first couple of school year together, to barely speaking to each other later in primary school. Prior my family and I moving to Canada, however, we were as close as we had been aged four. Ajaz was already sat at our pre-arranged meeting point – a small park that neighboured our primary school – when I arrived our pre-arranged meeting point. We walked through the neighbourhood, passing the house in which I grew up. The conversation was predictably awkward, nevertheless, I expected the conversation to loosen up after

I remember my first day in Canada like it was yesterday. The day I thought my dad had been hit by a car and my mom almost having a heart attack. It all started when we first got to the hotel, in Ontario, Mississauga. My father thought it would be a great idea to explore the area and buy some groceries. My mom, two brothers and I were exhausted due to a fourteen-hour flight from Dubai to Toronto so we decided to stay and take a nap. I woke up at 7 pm to silence. I thought my dad had come back and took a nap, but when I went to wake up parents, it was only my mother. At that point, I started freaking out, it’s been 4 hours since my father left. I woke up my mother and told her my dad hadn’t come back yet. My mother tried to call my father, but his phone was off. She then went to the security of the building and talked to him. The security guard asked my mother

Although I am Canadian and still carry Canadian traits, adopting new traits from being in a different environment has helped me grow and become a better individual. Someone who doesn't move will forever lack certain traits because you are not exposed to different environments. Being from a different country, I have different thoughts on an American than Americans, but after being in America my perspective has altered. Being able to adapt to situations and environments, just as the frontiers had, has lead me to take more pride in my individual self. Going trough life significant life experiences has made me appreciate values of Americans like freedom and justice. The western mythology has helped shape this nation and is responsible for many

My mom Andrea Svank moved from Hungary to Canada in 1998. My mom was born July 19th, 1970 she was born in Nyíregyháza, Hungary. She got the idea to move to Canada because her husband Joszef Svank (my dad) went to Canada to visit his aunt and uncle for 8 months before they met. When they met he always talked about how nice Canada is and that one day when there married he wants to move to Canada.

When my family and I moved from Canada to United States 6 years ago, it was very hard for me and I had to meet and make a new group of friends. I was born in Canada, and I lived in Ottawa all my life until my family and relocated to Atlanta in 2011. At the time of the move, I was eleven years old and I had just finished Grade 5. I remember when my mom told me that we were moving to Atlanta, Georgia I didn’t know where that city was because I only knew the cities in Canada and not in Georgia. I was very sad and excited to move to a new city. I knew I would lose my friends in Canada but I also knew I would get to meet and make some new ones when I get to Atlanta.

Growing up in a little city in the southern part of Nigeria filled with mosquitoes and irregular supply of electricity is an experience that has deeply shaped me. I was the last child from a family of eight, more like ten because of my two older cousins that lived with us for many years. In Nigeria, it is not uncommon to care for relatives even with a low income. My parents, Helen and Matthew, were hardworking and determined people. My dad ran a small sawmill business and my mom hawked produce to put food on our table. Unlike Canada, there is no welfare system put in place to help poor families. This lack of aid means that people like my parents were not well supported by the government, but by each other. One of the most beautiful things in

It was a polluted, blazing hot morning and I felt like I had just been working out for the whole night. As I got ready to go to school, putting on my pollution mask, and taking my bike out, I was concerned not about the teachers and getting lost, but about fitting in. This wasn’t perfect Canada anymore, this was chaos filled, contaminated, messed up China! Everyone was so different from the people in Canada, they spoke quite rudely, they wore shaggy cloth, and their shelter was very traditional compared to the ‘modern style houses’ in Canada. You could say that my school was a giant playground with a playground mansion and an additional indoor playground. As I entered the humid environment of the Mansion, strange figures zoomed around

At the age of 11, my life took a turn. To others, immigration was moving from country to country, but to me, it meant leaving my friends and family behind. On August 7, 2012 we moved to Canada. With all the challenges I was facing from immigration the biggest challenge was finding my identity in which I felt comfortable and knew I belonged. When I came from Pakistan I wore hijab. I was born in the year of 9/11 and that time my dad used to live in America when I grew up, my dad used to tell me what happened to Muslims in America after 9/11 so when my parents told me we were moving to Canada I was frightened to even though I knew that Canada is a different country and it both accepts and respects people of different origin. So when I moved to Canada I knew I had the decision to make, a decision about my identity, decision about who I want to be seen as.

When I was a kid, a girl lived next door to me. She was beautiful, graceful, and overall a kind person. Her name was Riley. I remember the times where I hung out with her. She was a cool girl who didn’t mind a boy hanging around with her. We often spent our time swinging on a rope in the park and playing tag. In time, I felt… attached to her. I wanted to tell her this. However, something happened.

I remember when I first moved to America. I remember how scared I was to move to a whole new country and didn’t know a soul within 400 miles of me. Everything was brand new and I was basically a newborn child in this world at the age of 4. I remember how we met, we bonded over the sport of soccer. I remember how we became the best of friends, and how we would carpool to Pre-K together. Then, she had a game for her church. I remember it was freezing because it was early January. She scored a goal right before half time, and then was taken off for the rest of the game. I remember seeing her panting on the bench, then I saw her lie down the bench. I figured she was tired, but then I saw her convulsing on the bench. I didn’t even realize what

“I think every person has their own identity and beauty. Everyone being different is what is really beautiful. If we were all the same, it would be boring.” - TIla Tequila

Human rights are in place for a reason, because all persons regardless of their age, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, ability, class, appearance and social location deserve to, and ought to, be treated with fairness and in an equitable manner. My responsibility as a Canadian citizen and professional is to uphold and promote all human rights regardless of my social location and assumptive world view. I feel as a humanitarian it is also my responsibility to educate and create awareness of issues surrounding basic human rights, especially those related to gender identity and expression. Through education of gender identity and gender expression, clients and members of the public are made aware of the oppression and discrimination that

A refreshing cool breeze blew in from the screen door, it was followed by the aroma of freshly baked cookies. As I got closer and closer to the oven I could practically taste the dough in my mouth, this was the work of my mom. As I took my first bite of the delicious cookie I hear thumping big feet shaking through the house followed by a somewhat loud jolly whistling. Dad was clearly happy to be able to have the luxury of enjoying some delicious cookies.

I came to Canada when I was nine years old. I’m an 18-year-old high school student who lives with three other family members: my father, my mother, and my 3-year-old brother. My parents came to Canada in hopes to give me a better life and they haven’t let me down once. I was born in a country where people are supposed to be Muslim or else they’d face the cruel discrimination that were openly shown. I was born in Iran, obviously I want to freely live in my own country; however, because my religion was Baha’i, I had to leave my country. Hundreds of people are being tortured or imprisoned, and tens of thousands lost jobs, access to education, and other rights--all solely because of their religious belief. The only thing that we ever wanted was

As I walked to the parking lot where my mom had arrived to pick me up from school, my sister ran out of the car, ran towards me and yelled excitedly, “We’re going to Canada!” Having grown up in Kuwait for my whole life of 15 years, I could hardly believe my sister’s words. Going to Canada! I had only been out of the country twice, each time just to vacation and visit family in the Philippines where both my parents are from. I had always imagined what life would be like outside of Kuwait, and now it was finally going to be real. My 15-year old self was devastated - We were leaving the only home I had known for 15 years. It did not take long for my sisters’ excitement to die when we realized that we would be leaving our friends and everything we’ve ever known and not returning for a long time. Life in Kuwait for 15 years was comfortable and we were more than financially stable. Moving to Canada without a job offer in place meant that we would have to start from the beginning all over again. Goodbyes were hard but my parents encouraged us to see the joys of moving to a place where we could start over and become accepted citizens of a country. Arriving in Canada, I experienced the biggest culture shock of my life. Vancouver, BC was cold, wet, and loud. I had thought adjusting would be relatively easy; I spoke English with a slight accent but I was very shy that it confused some of the other kids to think I couldn’t speak English. I did not understand the culture, which took a