Last December marked six years since I first stepped foot in Canada. As is the case with millions of people living in this land, I was not born here. Many of us immigrants arrived here either pursuing a dream, escaping a nightmare, or due to a complex mix of both situations. There are probably exceptions to this rule, but it is safe to say that for most immigrants, arriving in Canada is not the end of a journey but the beginning of another, and uncertainty is almost always unavoidable. I could probably be considered one of the lucky ones. I successfully concluded my college studies, got a job, made friends, and now find myself in the honorable position of being a Fanshawe professor for the program I graduated from. Yet, the feeling of uncertainty remains, and as my immigration journey evolves and new steps are revealed to me, this constant question is repeated in my mind: “what comes next?”

Recent geopolitical developments denote a significant change in the discourse regarding immigration. Immigrants and refugees are being blamed for systemic problems in society, called disrespectful names, and discriminated against because of their culture—and they are just one of the minorities being targeted. Arguably, the ideological source of this line of thought can be traced to the new North American far-right and the old, now modernized, European far-right. Not to mention how the global south is also filled with “Trumpian” figures with a local twist. These figures ascend using an oversimplified discourse and presenting simplistic resolutions, often driven by the desire to get rid of a certain kind of people, and by ascending to power somewhat legitimately, their agenda becomes the official institutional narrative of the government.

As of today, I find myself pursuing the first steps of my Permanent Residency application. It is an extremely bureaucratic process that often reduces you to a pile of documents. One variant of this process is called “express entry,” which works with a point system. Each applicant answers a number of questions that result in a numeric qualification, and depending on how high your points are, you may be eligible to send the actual application where you necessarily have to extensively prove every aspect of your points; if you don’t, your application will be refused. Some of the things you need to prove are your work history—in my case, activities I was involved in almost ten years ago—extensive bank statements, tax returns, having your study credentials recognized by international organizations, proving your language skills, and above all, spending tons of time and money to gather all this paperwork.

My life in Canada, as well as my current decision to stay, is not defined by a logical assessment of my qualifications and documentation. Here I have built friendships, I am building a career as an artist, I have made valuable connections beyond work, followed opportunities that not only bring me financial prosperity but also spiritual growth, and I have contributed to this society not as a Canadian citizen—which I’m not—but as a human being who tries, at least a little, to improve my life as well as the lives of those around me. The soon-to-be-late Interrobang is a good example of that. Having the opportunity to express my thoughts and develop my craft here was an honor that far surpassed what my application would call “work experience.”

Recently, I had the displeasure of hearing a quote by a certain billionaire (or oligarch) currently working within the US government who can afford to not have his name mentioned in this piece, where he said—while being interviewed by a muscular pseudo-intellectual podcast host—that “the fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy, the empathy exploit. There it is: they’re exploiting a bug in Western civilization, which is the empathy response.” I was appalled by such a statement. I guess he believes that empathy for individuals is costly to the collective. One of his examples of this is California’s move to provide medical insurance even to undocumented people who qualify for its low-income Medi-Cal program.

This oligarch’s family initially made their fortune in South Africa with emerald mining, mostly during the apartheid decades. Although his parents weren’t as vocal about their support for apartheid as his grandparents (who moved to South Africa from Canada), it is undeniable that they profited from the apartheid laws that openly gave privileges and opportunities to white people while segregating and persecuting black communities.

I don’t claim to know well the complexities of the history of the fights against South African apartheid, but I do know one or two things. After listening to this quote, I can’t help but remember the Ubuntu philosophy, which was one of the bases of the struggle against apartheid and an important part of Nelson Mandela’s worldview. According to the African Journal of Social Work, Ubuntu is “a collection of values and practices that people of Africa or of African origin view as making people authentic human beings. While the nuances of these values and practices vary across different ethnic groups, they all point to one thing—an authentic individual human being is part of a larger and more significant relational, communal, societal, environmental, and spiritual world.” As Archbishop Desmond Tutu describes this perspective, Ubuntu “is not, ‘I think therefore I am.’ It says rather: ‘I am a human because I belong. I participate. I share.’” In essence, “I am because you are.”

The Ubuntu philosophy exists in direct opposition to that quote by said oligarch and what it represents. It preaches a world of unity and compassion, which doesn’t mean docility or acceptance of injustice. The fact that this oligarch has deep connections to apartheid is not a mere coincidence, and the fact that he is now involved in major geopolitical conflicts (including the resolution of Palestinian apartheid, to say the least) again imposes the haunting question—what comes next?

I understand that it is within the government’s duties to control who enters, leaves, and stays in the country, to some extent. The government needs to protect its people and its land and culture, and it needs to guarantee a number of rights to those who are eligible. The problem is how to calibrate the extension of such obligations and what these obligations mean. The immigration process is utterly dehumanizing. I am learning how in many cases “low class” jobs, for instance, don’t count as Canadian work experience. So someone could work hard for years in a factory or warehouse and discover that all that work doesn’t help if they want to stay in Canada legally. My work on Interrobang, for example, also doesn’t count because apparently the work you do while studying is not considered valid work experience.

Yet, all of these things I have to prove in order to stay are not the reasons why I think it’s worth staying. The government sees my presence here as either a good investment or a waste of resources, and it’s up to me to convince them otherwise.

That quote by the richest man in the world shocked me precisely because I think that empathy is probably the only antidote for the imminent collapse we are heading into. Collaboration instead of competition. Comprehension instead of judgment. Integration instead of segregation. Immigration has been a difficult journey, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to get easier. However, although extremely dehumanizing, it is also very humbling. And in many ways, it taught me that what I found in Canada wasn’t what I was looking for, but in many ways, it was what I needed. I don’t know what comes next. But here I’ve learned to live with uncertainty, and I know that I’ll be here for it, as long as I can stand, with gratitude in my heart, hope in my bones, and curiosity in my eyes.