
Roads of dirt, wings of steel
In the heart of a vast land where dreams take flight, a butterfly once soared with hopes of a better life. Leaving behind the familiar warmth of home, it chased the promise of opportunity in a kingdom of towering trees and endless fields. This butterfly flew many miles to reach that dreamy land. But what it found was not the lush paradise it had envisioned. Instead, it was thrust into the shadows of a cavernous, dust-filled place of work, where the air was thick with dampness and the weight of exploitation bore down on its delicate wings.
Each morning, before the sun could rise, it folded its dreams beneath its wings and stepped into a world where time moved in endless cycles of labour. The work was relentless, the pressure unyielding. The masters loomed like storm clouds, their words sharp as thorns—fear, threats, mockery, and disdain wrapped around it like a choking vine. It had never known that a place could feel so vast, yet so suffocating.
Then came the injury. A sharp pain tore through its body, and for the first time, it faltered. It had always believed that pain was something to be endured in silence—just as it had been taught. But intuition whispered otherwise. With trembling resolve, it sought help, navigating a system never meant to be understood. It was a labyrinth, designed to deter rather than support. Yet, a glimmer of hope emerged when it found a refuge willing to guide the way. They helped with the wind, offering a small beacon of light in the darkness.
Fear wrapped around its heart like a vice. If it spoke up, would they retaliate? Would it lose the little security it had? The threats and fear echoed in its mind, a cruel melody heard too often. But deep within, something stronger stirred—a defiance that refused to be silenced. The butterfly decided to speak, to claim the right to dignity and safety. It was a terrifying act, yet necessary.
The response from the workplace was as cold as the place itself—silence. Indifference. They didn’t offer any guidance, no acknowledgment of the pain. Instead, they laughed, dismissing the suffering with cruel words and mocking hands. “It’s not that bad,” they sneered. “It will pass.” But the butterfly knew the truth—its pain was real, the struggle valid. And when they pushed, it pushed back. “It really hurts! Stop doing that!” It declared, its voice firm for the first time in a long while.
The environment grew more hostile with each passing day. Injured butterflies were discarded like broken tools, and those who remained were subjected to relentless pressure. The supervisors turned cruelty into sport, their words laced with venom—insults about language, appearance, and color, fuelling an already toxic competition among the others. Solidarity was scarce, and even fellow butterflies, beaten down by their own despair, began to turn against one another. The butterfly felt the weight of it all—the crushing isolation, the unbearable injustice.
Dealing with the wind (WorkSafeBC) was another stormy battle, a roller coaster of debilitating emotions. Forced to fly despite the weather and its condition, it was met with disbelief. "You are fine, nothing is wrong with your wings," they said. They spoke in intimidating tones, forcing movement beyond its limits. "Move more! What is the fear? Open your wings! Higher, higher!" The butterfly secretly cried, forced to act as though nothing had happened, pressured to heal on command. When it asked what would happen if the wings worsened, the response was simple: "It will happen, and it will be worse."
Anger, stress, and exhaustion grew, fueled by the ignorance and misinformation in the system. What should have been simple processes became intentionally complicated and draining. The wind made everything tedious, exhausting, and discouraging, pushing the butterflies to give up. Perhaps it was inefficiency; perhaps it was intentional. Either way, it prioritized those in power over the health and dignity of the butterflies.
Through the trials, the butterfly underwent a transformation it never expected. The once delicate wings it had cherished were no longer the same. They had been reforged by adversity, strengthened by pain, yet even steel, for all its might, is not unbreakable. It can rust, it can weaken, and under enough weight, it can shatter. The butterfly had moments of doubt, of exhaustion so deep it questioned whether it could go on. It had been thrust into battles it never sought, forced to endure hardships beyond its imagination, and silenced parts of itself just to survive.
“If flowers can grow through adversity, so can you,” the butterfly reminded itself. It had been called resilient too many times to count, though it never asked to be. Sometimes, it wished life were easier, that the winds carried it somewhere kinder. But it also knew that struggle had shaped it, carved strength into its very being. It had learned to cherish even the smallest moments of light. And though the scars remained, they were proof that it had survived—that it had endured.
Yet, despite the countless times it wanted to stop, it never gave up entirely. Even when its wings were tattered, it pressed forward. Because beyond the storm, beyond the weight of injustice and pain, there was still something worth fighting for.
But it refused to break. The wings that had once been soft and fragile began to change. With every trial, every indignity, they hardened and transformed—no longer delicate but forged in steel. The pain, the fear, the relentless struggle had reshaped it. It was no longer the same butterfly that had arrived with naïve hope; it was something stronger, something unyielding. It would not let them take its flight. It would rise, not just for itself, but for those who had been silenced before. The steel in its wings carried it forward, away from the darkness, toward a future where it would never again be caged by fear. And although the scars of the journey would remain, they were not marks of defeat but of resilience—testaments to the unbreakable spirit of a butterfly that dared to defy the storm.
The dream of open skies, of a place where wings were not weighed down by fear, where flight was not dictated by survival alone.
