Growing up as an immigrant from São Paulo, Brazil, I was eager to assimilate into what I thought of as the quintessential Canadian life; road hockey, the Toronto Blue Jays, the peaceful multiculturalism I heard so much about. My early years in Canada were shaped by the simple desire to belong, to be seen as a regular Canadian kid. I was proud to be here, in what I viewed as a land of opportunity and kindness. But as I grew older, so did my understanding of this country’s complicated history, one that runs deeper than the friendly stereotypes I had once embraced.

It took time to see that this land I was so eager to call home had a much darker past, particularly in its relationship with Indigenous communities. There’s a truth in this country’s story that unsettled me as I learned more about the legacy of colonization, residential schools, and the continued struggles of Indigenous peoples. At first, it was hard to reconcile these facts with the Canada I thought I knew; a nation that promised fairness, equality, and respect for all. But the more I learned, the more I realized that this sanitized version of Canadian history was a privilege, one that ignored the voices of those who had suffered most under colonial policies.

The discomfort I felt wasn’t just about acknowledging the wrongs of the past; it was about realizing how deeply ingrained these issues still are. Education systems, for example, continue to perpetuate narratives that erase or distort Indigenous perspectives. This wasn’t just a problem of the past but a reflection of the ongoing challenges in how we talk about reconciliation, truth, and justice. How can we truly reconcile when the systems that shape our understanding of the world; our schools, our media, our public discourse; still operate from a place of ignorance or denial?

I’ve come to see that my immigrant experience, my desire to fit in and feel a part of this country, is a small part of a much bigger conversation. I wanted to be “Canadian,” but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. Now, I see that being Canadian isn’t just about belonging to a multicultural mosaic; it’s about recognizing the responsibilities we all share in addressing the injustices that continue to affect Indigenous communities. It’s about asking ourselves what kind of future we want to build; a future that is truly inclusive, one that honors the truth rather than glosses over it.

For me, this journey of learning has been about more than guilt or shame. It’s been about responsibility. It’s not enough to simply know the truth; we have to ask ourselves what we’re going to do with it. How do we challenge the systems that have caused harm? How do we ensure that education becomes a tool for real understanding and change, rather than a means of maintaining the status quo?

As someone who has benefited from the opportunities Canada provides, I feel a deeper sense of accountability to help create space for the stories that haven’t been told; stories that are central to what this country truly is and could be. We owe it to ourselves, to our children, and to the generations of Indigenous peoples who have carried these burdens for far too long. This isn’t just a matter of reconciliation; it’s a matter of reimagining the very foundations of what it means to be a part of this place, to learn from its past and work toward a future that is genuinely just.

In many ways, the more I understand this history, the more my love for this country has deepened; not in spite of its flaws but because the path forward requires all of us to engage with the truth. It’s a love rooted in the hope that we can do better, that we can build a nation that not only acknowledges its past but works actively to heal from it. That, to me, is the essence of what it means to belong to this land.

–

On this first National Day
for Truth and Reconciliation,
I stand with all Canadians,
bearing the guilt of a history
marked by loss and silence,
the innocent lives of Indigenous children
whose spirits still call for justice.
We are bound by the obligation
to grieve, to remember,
and to carry the weight of remorse,
for the lives lost, the futures stolen,
and the deep scars left behind.
In this moment, we commit
to accountability and retribution,
to the work that remains;
to heal, to rebuild,
a society where all are seen,
and the echoes of the past
no longer go unheard.

— Sincerely, Boris