I woke up screaming
I woke up screaming.
“I need to call my boss! They’re going to fire me!”
I gasped, panic rushing through my body.
A nurse ran in and held me. “You just had surgery for six hours. You need to rest. I’ll call a social worker,” she said, her voice calm but firm.
At first, I didn’t understand. My mind was spinning, my heart racing, and tears ran down my face. Then it hit me.
I worked in that restaurant for three years. I endured abuse every day. And now, because I spoke up, they wanted to fire me
Through my sobs, I told the nurse everything. She looked at me with kindness and said, “In Canada, we do not tolerate abuse. You are safe.” She adjusted my IV and gave me something for the pain.
I lay there, weak, exhausted. The accident happened while I was snowboarding—my only escape from stress. But that day, I wasn’t myself. My mind was too heavy. I lost control, fell hard, and broke my arm. As I lay in the snow, bleeding, my first thought wasn’t the pain. It was fear. Fear of what my boss would do if I didn’t show up for work.
The last week had been hell. My boss trapped me in the freezer, yelling, threatening me. I cried every night. I couldn’t sleep. I was drowning.
Snowboarding was supposed to help me breathe again. But the accident forced me to face the truth: I had to get out.
I spent three months healing. My body got stronger. My heart took longer. But I made it. I did not stay silent.
I am a woman. I am an immigrant. And I am human.
I have the right to live without fear.
Even when they try to silence us, we must speak. Even when they push us down, we must rise.
We must expose violence. Name it. End it.
