I was once a proud Canadian

What is it about a jacket anyway?

Back in 2016, every time I wore Canada on my back, I’d start a conversation – it didn’t matter where I was. I had my Canada jacket on and that somehow pulled people towards me: I was a tourist magnet for strangers, and why I always wore it while traveling. People would start conversations out of nowhere: “hey, you’re from Canada, were you on the team?” I’d laugh, flash a big smile “of course!”, I’d say jokingly. Depending on my mood, I’d like to fool the stranger, often an American, who then would ask “which sport did you play?” I’d play along, and say “ah, figure skating, Vancouver 2010!” I’d give them a wink hoping they’d realize the truth, secretly admiring the compliment as I found it so funny. My jacket became a magnet for conversations: with strangers at Starbucks, ticket counters, on trains, in getting my luggage tucked while looking for my seat, with bus drivers, on a walk at a park, eating at restaurants, exploring a museum. I would carefully preserve, one of my two treasured Canada jackets, washing them by hand, ensuring that none of the letters would be stripped by harsh detergent. Everywhere I went, people would say: “hey, you’re from Canada! That’s the best place in the world!

I was a proud Canadian. I was free, thriving and happy. The government didn’t stick a knife to my throat every time I awakened, I had blissfully no idea what went on in Parliament, and I never worried for my future: I had goals, big and small dreams, relationships, sports, a business, and a life to pursue: together with a long bucket list. My late Father did us well – both my brother and I were thriving, successful, peaceful, healthy, and happy. We had friends, goals and a social life. Life was so good. I went back to business school in the UK and enjoyed every thriving second. There, I realized that my Oxford classmates envied my position in life: “ah, but you’re from Canada!”, they’d say. This was a time when the UK was in the turmoil of Brexit and terror attacks dominated the headlines. I was proud and immensely grateful for how lucky I was to be living in a peaceful country, but sad for those who couldn’t enjoy the freedom I had taken so for granted. I was even more proud and grateful to be a lucky Canadian.

At 4:50am, my alarm would go off, and after dragging myself out of bed, I’d either hit the rink, an early morning run, or a cross-fit workout that I’d only appreciate after being beaten by an all-talented Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu trainer. I loved sport and the discipline it required. What motivated me on those groggy mornings, were Olympic athletes – Canadian ice dance duo whom I deeply admired and still do – Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir. I motivated myself with – if Tessa could win the 2010 Olympics with compartment syndrome in both her legs not being able to walk to the fridge in the Athletes Village, then surely, I can drag my butt out of bed for an early workout. And so, I did. I made time for everything: social media didn’t consume my life as the media didn’t routinely lie (and burden me with the time-consuming and exhausting effort of uncovering the truth on my own), Parliamentary Committee meetings weren’t the reality horror show they are today; kids weren’t taught that they can switch genders, Canadians weren’t taught to hate themselves at every opportunity, the government didn’t profess state suicide as virtue, and I had reason to remember my friends’ birthdays. People mattered to me more than their opinion and I wanted to show them how much I care. In a full and busy schedule, I commuted 4 hours daily to work, and flew across the Atlantic regularly for lectures. I worked out, I socialized, I studied, I multi-tasked, I made time for dance practice, for reading, for work, for studies, for relationships and for fun. Politics were there as a means for honing one’s intellect, fueling curiosity, expanding awareness and learning from others’ perspectives. They didn’t serve as tools for destroying people’s lives and socially assassinating them at the mere inkling of a differing opinion. I’d often wake up to 164 WhatsApp’s to yet another fiery debate from classmates. People from all over the world, were wanting a better world and were unafraid to fight for it. Differences were welcome and encouraged. Mono-maniacal thinking and moralization were unheard of. Life revolved around relationships, work, family, school, friends, goals, sports, studying, ball gowns, travel and fun. It was all so eerily – normal.

Canada’s harsh winters ensure that nearly everyone has access to an ice rink or a ski hill. Ski school is even available in the bigger cities and makeshift hockey rinks are often embedded into one’s backyard. We take our winter sports very seriously here. I grew up on sandy Mediterranean beaches with mazut, but I love the ice, the snow, and the cold just as much as I love the sea. Hockey, our treasured national pastime, in a game against our friendly Americans, was an excuse to celebrate in a sea of red and white with friends, to a lot of cheering, and much too much beer. Hockey was fun because hockey connected us.

The 2010 Olympics were a highlight for Canada: we climbed the pinnacle of the world on its biggest stage : we were first in the world (!) winning 26 medals, 14 of which were gold: coast to coast to coast in an endless sea of red and white, we proudly cheered. Fast forward 8 years, in the 2018 Olympics, we dropped to a respectable third with 29 medals, 11 of which were gold. In another 8 years, in this year’s 2026 Olympics, we didn’t even make the top 10: placing in a pitiful 11th place with 21 medals, only 5 of which were gold in a country where nearly half the year is winter. In their relentless effort to brainwash us, CBC mainstream media covered this up by blatantly lying that we placed 8th overall gaslighting us to believe that we had in fact “surpassed our goal of 20 medals”.

Why I love sport so much is that it is emblematic of real life: of mindset, of grit, of attitude, of determination, of discipline, of strategy, of setting goals and the will of achieving them. Sport psychology can transfer to any business and any life challenge. If you want to see how quickly an athlete unravels thanks to the cobwebs of one’s mind, watch a struggling figure skating performance: it is all there. Watching Alysa Liu win the gold in women’s event wasn’t only thanks to her effortless skating: it was her mind and spirit that won. We all have cobwebs in our minds, and it’s the pursuit of overcoming them that matters. What this dramatic drop from first to eleventh place demonstrates is not only how far Canada has deteriorated but how unwilling it is to get back up. It is not only a country unwilling to prioritize its elite athletes but it is a country unwilling to prioritize its own Canadians. What’s worse is that the majority thinks this is a good thing.

I am thus, no longer a proud Canadian. I somehow now long for an American jacket – their beautiful white on blue stars. The American anthem rings in my mind, to which I wish I had learned the lyrics. I am ashamed in how many times Canadians had the audacity to boo the American anthem at multiple tournaments, only to have the Americans boo us once in return. It is humiliating how we can denigrate the most admired Constitution of the world, showing much disdain to American history, their Founding Fathers and all Americans had fought for. It is simply humiliating to be a Canadian right now and it is frankly, satisfying that the White House has mocked us with barbs that I think we rightly deserve, and that even God showed us a sense of humor. America is not perfect, nor are we. But what America has, that we don’t, is an infinite ability to renew herself, of resilience, of dynamism. Americans fall, they falter, they are loud and obnoxious, they are unashamed to be themselves, they make mistakes, they make amends, they strive, they dream but they always push forward – and they always get back up!

The State of the Union last night, filled me with hope. For a moment, I imagined that I didn’t live in totalitarian hell, but in a free country. I was, however briefly, happy for a country that wanted the best for its own country. I was embarrassed for those who wanted the opposite but I was glad that the division was exposed for all to see. For a moment, I played the same scenario in my mind, imagining a single Canadian politician demonstrating to the Canadian people what it means to have $5,000 extra in their account, and actually doing something to multiply it. Not the stupefying and empty platitudes we hear from Parliament that mean nothing, do nothing, and change nothing. Yes, the American President can be boastful and arrogant. But would anyone expect the world’s most powerful economy to be insecure, apologetic and professing humility over substance? If you want to be the best, you have to believe that you are the best, and then you actually become the best: it’s the same rule in sport, as it is in life.

I suspect that whenever I’ll travel again, my treasured jacket will remain in my closet. I don’t trust that it will spark the warm conversations and friendships it once did. I am no longer a proud Canadian, because Canada no longer gives me any reason to be. It has financially, socially and economically destroyed my life. It has robbed me of hope, of precious time, of my own family, of health, of my friends, of joy and of a future. It has shown me more cruelty, more coldness and pure evil than could fill my wildest imagination. In its valiant effort to demoralize its own population, Canada is no longer the place it once was, and I don’t trust that it will be back anytime soon.