Starting from Zero Twice.

The doors never opened for me in Colombia or Canada, so I had to build my own.

For many years I heard that I was smart, disciplined, and capable. But the most important thing was not what other people said; I always knew who I was, even when people ignored me.

I remember that when I graduated, I was so proud and started preparing my resume to send everywhere. One day, I was at a print shop and the attendant sized me up, looking at me from top to bottom as if to say: ‘Are you kidding? You’re a professional?’ For better or worse, my biological, mental, and chronological ages have always been out of sync.

One day I was on a bus, close to my university, and the girl sitting next to me asked: “Why are you looking for a job? Shouldn’t you be finishing high school?”. I told her I had a university degree and she thought I was lying. She confronted me about my education, my classes at university, and my thesis. By chance, she was studying the same degree I had. At the end, she said: “Wow, you look like a teenager!”.

By the time I had to find my way in Colombia, the doors did not open. I had no contacts, no money, and I did not belong to a wealthy family. My physical appearance was not accepted anywhere. Because of that, over and over, they rejected me. I do not know why people believe that abilities depend on what you look like or how tall you are.

Even though I had random contracts sometimes in remote towns where no one else would go; those were the only places I was accepted. The jobs my friends rejected and the classes they refused to teach, I accepted them. My best friend said: “I have a business degree, I am not going to teach, what will people think about me?”. But I did teach; it was extra money and I helped young people who were starting university to love what they were studying. I even studied a different profession, while I kept knocking on doors, searching for another way.

Also, three months before coming to Canada, a friend of mine refused to give an assessment because he was lazy. I accepted it and with those 350 CAD, I could organize my trip. I knocked on so many doors and I learned to work with what others rejected.

I submitted my resume to companies and employment agencies, but they always looked at me with skepticism. My sister, who is blonde, blue-eyed, and very social, the opposite of me, suggested I visit the agencies that had helped her. I went and mentioned her name. They processed my application while looking me up and down, clearly only helping me out of courtesy.

I remember that in one agency, while I was waiting, a lady arrived with her teenage daughter and told the manager her daughter needed a job. The manager asked: “Does she have any experience?”. The lady said no. The manager replied, “It does not matter, let’s fill out the application,” and she filled it out herself with lies.

Then, the manager received a phone call asking for help for someone else. The manager asked: “Is she pretty?”. The person on the phone said yes. The manager did not ask if the girl had any experience or education; she just said: “If she is pretty, of course I will get her a job, just send her to me.”

When I filled out my application, they sent me upstairs for a psychological test. The woman administering it seemed completely lost, and I ended up explaining the process to her myself.

It confirmed something I had known since I was a girl: that was not my place. If someone had opened a door for me, I probably would have stayed.

My mom sometimes tells me: “If only someone had helped you.” I always reply to her: “It is exactly because nobody helped me that I succeeded abroad.”

When I emigrated to Canada, things did not suddenly become easy. You do not land from the plane and have jobs fall from heaven. You have to start from scratch. You can live well stacking boxes in a grocery store, but I did not want that for the rest of my life.

Somebody told me once: “If you do not have a Canadian degree, you are nobody.” It hurt me, but he was right. I did not want to hear that anymore, so I decided to study here. I hated studying in Canada, not because of the system, but because I knew I already had the skills and knowledge to have a professional job without having another university degree. I cried every single day while I was studying because I had to prove again who I was. But I did it, and I graduated with honors.

I knocked on many doors until finally one opened. In my job, I sometimes used Excel; I felt that I did not know much back then, but my supervisor always thought that I was an expert. She did not look at my appearance or my age; she was focusing on my problem-solving skills.

Years later, when she was moving to another city, before saying goodbye, she told me: “You are brilliant. Those who rejected you have no idea what they missed out on”. I never expected to hear those words, especially from someone of that professional level in a country like Canada. She didn’t say it out of obligation when she hired me; she said it after she truly got to know me.