My Reality

If anyone were to ask me what kind of novels I like to write, I would immediately answer fiction, rom-com, modern fantasy–anything and everything that has zero to do with the real world. I write stories to escape reality. I write to forget about the hardships I face as an immigrant.

From a very young age, I buried myself into this craft because it was the only time I felt like I was in control. As a twelve-year-old and the youngest daughter to a Pakistani diplomat, I had no say about immigrating to Canada. I did not choose to leave my family. I did not choose to exist in a world where no one could understand me because I spoke a different language. And even though I learned to adapt to the culture and the expectations everyone had, I grew up resenting this country.

In high school, I had a wake-up call. My family asked about my plans for the future and I said I wanted to become a published author. It was quickly brought to my attention that this dream would not be enough to live on. I was told that I had to put my study-permit to good use once I received it. That I should consider going to college or university for Marketing or Journalism.

What is a study permit? I remember asking.

A study permit is an official document giving foreigners permission to study in a country.

What did I need a study permit for? I went to elementary school, middle school and high school in Canada for 10 years without needing it.

I didn’t understand that I was fortunate enough to attend those 3 institutions because education was free in Canada up until grade 12. After graduation, I could only continue with my parents’ support, a scholarship or special student grants. Without a permanent residency or citizenship, I was not entitled to more education or any perks/ benefits that Canada offered. OSAP, health coverage, and voting included. Those were the rules. I could question them all I wanted but it would not change my reality.

It’s important to remember study permits and work permits cost a substantial fee. As the government changes over time, so do the rules for immigration. At one point my study permit and work permit lasted me three years, another time they were only valid for six to twelve months. This drastic change was influenced by the elections and who was voted into office.

In 2007, more responsibility was placed on me– a responsibility that normal teenagers didn’t have to deal with. People that I went to elementary school with would never be able to relate to my problems, which inevitably caused me to become more resentful. My parents couldn’t afford to pay for my studies. I had to go and find a job. I had to work twice as hard if I wanted to be able to stay on the same path as my friends.

Every time someone complained about doing a 4-year program at university, a pit grew in my stomach. Every time someone whined that OSAP wasn’t giving them enough grants, I tuned out the conversation. Every time someone skipped their doctor’s appointment because they didn’t like sitting in the waiting room, I wanted to lash out at them. Every time someone said they weren’t voting, I wanted to pull out all my hair.

I told myself that there was no point being angry at people who were privileged enough to have those benefits and privileged enough to take them for granted. I had to remind myself that I was also fortunate to be able to live where I did, to grow up how I had, and to have a healthy body that functioned normally. I had to focus on the positive because I believed my permits, my status in Canada would always have an expiry date.

It’s taken me a long time to start talking about my experiences and I want to be brave enough to continue. That’s why I look to others for inspiration. I ask immigrants, younger and older to share their journey and experiences. I hope it will encourage me to be more vulnerable and more confident about my past and present.