When we remember only the hardships, we risk forgetting the rest of the story

By Dania Daud

When I think about immigrant life in Canada, my family’s experiences come to mind.

My father’s family moved to Canada from Pakistan in 1994 because of the persecution Ahmadi Muslims faced there. My mother joined later in 2005, after she got married to my father.

Like many others, they came searching for safety, a chance to live openly and to practice their faith without fear.

I still remember an evening at home when all of us were setting the table for dinner. My parents were carefully putting out the dishes and the smells of spiced rice and chicken were filling the kitchen. We laughed over the little stories from our day. Moments like these — grocery lists, school drop-offs — made our lives feel ordinary and full at the same time.

Looking at Canadian film, literature or art, I notice a pattern. Stories about immigration are typically shown through a single lens: the fear, the challenges, the silent moments and the loneliness that comes with leaving everything behind.

These experiences are real and important, but they are not the whole picture.

Too often, immigrant identity is represented solely through difficulties. This focus risks crushing entire communities. Where are the stories of everyday laughter? Where are the moments of peace that make a life whole?

Small moments like those shape how we navigate Canada as immigrants and they show that immigrant life holds so much more than struggle. While survival has its own place in our stories, everyday joys and cultural pride are just as real.

For Jazibah Khan, a first-year student at University of Waterloo with family roots in Pakistan, this freedom is part of what makes the immigrant experience in Canada so meaningful. “In Canada, I feel so much more accepted, being able to go out to my mosque and go pray whenever I want, whether it be early in the morning or nighttime,” she said.

Think of children learning their first words in a new language. Think of neighbours sharing food that carries the taste of another country. Think of communities gathering for Eid, Diwali or Lunar New Year with music and colours that brighten streets. 

Immigrants shape Canadian cities in various ways. In Toronto’s Little India on Gerrard Street East, restaurants and shops thrive with cultural energy. You can smell fresh spices in the air, hear families laughing and catching up in Urdu and Punjabi and see children running past stores with colourful clothes and textiles in their window displays. Vancouver’s Punjabi Market flourishes similarly, with clothing and fabrics sold alongside the sounds of neighbours reconnecting with their culture. And along Eglinton Avenue West in Toronto’s Little Jamaica, reggae comes out of record stores and barbershops while Caribbean restaurants serve longtime residents and newcomers alike to keep Jamaican culture alive in the city.

Festivals like Caribana in Toronto or the Chinatown Lantern Festival in Calgary also remind us that immigrant culture adds life to Canadian streets.

Beyond celebration, moments of cultural connection matter just as much. Fozia Kahloon, an immigrant from Pakistan, reflects on how these small details often go unseen. “I wish people would see more of our culture,” she said. “To actually see what goes on at Pakistani weddings and all the events — the colours and the clothes. I feel like that’s really different from just hearing about it.” 

At Pakistani weddings, you might see brightly coloured lehengas and sherwanis, tables overflowing with briyani, lassi and gulab jamun, hear the steady beat of the dholak and families laughing. These are the moments of joy and connection that are rarely shown in media.

Even in Canadian literature and film, glimpses of this appear, but they are consistently overshadowed by stories of loss. 

Kim Thuy’s Ru tells the story of a woman fleeing Vietnam and resettling in Quebec, in which it focuses on survival. In Concrete Valley — a film shown at the Toronto International Film Festival — a Syrian doctor is unable to practice medicine in Canada.

These stories are powerful and bring important discussion to the front, but where are the films about immigrant teens forming new friendships, or novels about families finding humour in their everyday around the dinner table?

These mundane images ring just as true as the stories of discrimination. Yet, they rarely take centre-stage in Canadian media. Why do we pay attention only when pain is present?

Some Canadian voices are changing the narrative. Writers, such as Souvankham Thammavongsa, use subtle humour and tender detail to show the richness within immigrant life. Musicians in Toronto blend South Asian beats with hip-hop, creating new sounds established in more than difficulties. Canadian filmmakers, such as Mina Shum, show family life and community connections that remind us immigrants live ordinary and extraordinary lives just like anyone else.

Shahzad Naeem, another immigrant from Pakistan, shared a simple but powerful example of cross-cultural connections that form in this country. “I used to share my home-cooked meals with my colleagues who belonged to different cultures and they really enjoyed it.”

This proves that immigrant identity is not only about survival. It is about creativity, contribution and happiness.

In schools across Canada, immigrant children sometimes face pressures to hide parts of themselves in order to ‘fit in.’ However, moments of laughter and successes, whether it’s making a new friend or finally mastering a new word in English, also shape their identity and confidence. 

Shouldn’t these pieces of life count just as much as the stories of loss?

The bigger question is whether Canada is ready to listen. Will we continue to define immigrants by what they have suffered or will we open space for their wholeness?

What happens when we only remember the hardship and forget the rest of the story? That question remains because the answer shapes how we see each other.

The truth of immigrant life cannot be told through hardships alone. It is written in both grief and laughter. Canada has to learn to platform that depth because immigrant life is not one-dimensional.

It goes beyond struggle in immigrant life. And until that is recognized, Canada’s own story will remain incomplete. The humour and ordinary moments that sustain families and communities deserve as much attention as the hardships. Only then can the full story be told.