Last night, I lay awake with a heavy weight on my heart. When I say that, I’m speaking about the tragedy involving the Filipino community in Vancouver.
In my work, I have the privilege of speaking with people across Canada’s incredible tapestry, people who are generous with their stories, their thoughts, their cultures. And many times, that has included the Filipino diaspora.
Recently, my older son had a Filipino family move in next door. He mentioned they’d invited him to a gathering and asked me what he should bring. I told him honestly: you don’t need to bring anything. If there’s one thing you’ll learn living next to a Filipino family, it’s that food will be abundant, laughter will be abundant, and community will be abundant. They welcome everyone.
And last night, my mind stayed with them, and with so many others, as I thought about what this tragedy means. When something like this happens, we first hear the numbers, how many people, when it happened, where it happened, how it happened. But at first, we don’t truly feel it. It takes time before you sit with what those numbers really mean. The long-term heartbreak. The ripple effects that will last lifetimes.
This celebration in Vancouver was not just any gathering. It was in honour of Lapu-Lapu, an Indigenous leader in the Philippines who fought against colonization. And when I think about that, about the struggle against colonization, I realize how deeply connected their story is to the one that continues here in Canada for our own Indigenous peoples. The pain. The resilience. The ongoing fight for dignity, respect, and true belonging.
And now, inevitably, there will be political noise, arguments about whether this tragedy fits one narrative or another. Crime. Mental health. Security. But right now? None of that should matter. Because what happened is a tragedy. Full stop.
As we move toward April 28, 2025, a date when all Canadians are called upon to make choices about leadership and the future we want to build, I find myself even more deeply grounded in what matters most. It is the celebration and protection of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Those values have been the starting point for my reflections over these past months, and they are where my heart and conscience firmly remain.
Leadership is not just about policies. It is about how we hold space for every person who calls this country home. It is about compassion, respect, and the understanding that our strength comes from lifting each other up, especially in moments of grief and uncertainty.
The people at that festival might not have all been Filipino. Because that’s the beauty of this place we live in: We share cultures. We share food, music, celebrations. We experience the world without ever needing to leave Canada, because the world lives here. We are richer because of it.
Even with a hurting heart, I am so deeply grateful to live in this country of incredible, resilient diversity. And my heart remains with all those whose lives have been forever changed, as they move forward with courage into a new and difficult reality.
Nancy's Notes 