A 15-day visa that turned into 15 years in Canada: Mexican woman shares 'the most challenging and beautiful journey of life'

Yahoo

20 hours ago

Erin Horrocks-Pope is an award-winning journalist who works as a project manager of strategic development at the Mennonite New Life Centre (MNLCT) in Toronto. She helps new Canadians connect to the community through various initiatives and opportunities. A selection of the organization's participants have agreed to share their Canadian lens in as-told-to accounts for Yahoo News readers.
When I was a little girl, my father hung a Canadian flag in my bedroom. My grandmother would paint Canadian forests and lakes from memory, telling us stories of the land she visited in her youth. When I finally arrived here, though I was in a strange and unfamiliar place, it felt like I was home.
My name is Lourdes Minerva Fuentes Castillo, but everyone calls me Lumy. I have lived in Canada for 15 years, and it has been the most challenging and also the most beautiful journey of my life.
I am from Monterrey, Nuevo León, Mexico, a city full of life, music, and colour, but also full of danger. In 2008, the cartels came into our neighbourhood and took everything: our young people, our land, and our peace. I had a good job as a director of sales in a large company, but in 2010, the company shut down and left because of the growing violence.
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Around that time, two young boys were kidnapped right in front of our home by the cartel. I held my sons close inside, and we watched in fear. I called the police and the military, begging them to help, but no one came. We were alone, and I was terrified for my sons, who were only 11 and 16. Every day, I worried about their future and what would happen if we stayed.
My cousin invited us to visit her in Canada, so we each packed one bag and came. At the border, the officer gave me a 15-day visitor visa. I was so worried he knew I might not want to leave. But later, I saw it was a blessing. Even though we were undocumented, my sons could go to school and we had access to health care.
Within five days, I was meeting with immigration lawyers. They all told me the same thing: not to apply for refugee status because Mexican claims were almost always denied. Instead, they told us to stay, undocumented, for at least five years, and then apply for permanent residency on humanitarian and compassionate grounds. So that is what we did.
At first, it was so hard. I felt completely alone. In Mexico, I had a whole community around me, but here, I didn't know anyone except my cousin. Then, I met a woman from the Alidessa Women's Centre who invited me to volunteer. That was the first time I felt like I had a family here. I shared my crafts, my culture, and my heart. Eventually, I became president of the centre for a year, which gave me so much pride and hope.
In 2015, I started my own group, Canada Nos Une (Canada Unites Us), to help other newcomer women, to celebrate multiculturalism, and to fight against violence and loneliness. My work also brought me into collaboration with First Nations communities and environmental groups, where I found a new purpose in protecting the land and learning from Indigenous knowledge. I even got to visit Ottawa and meet Prime Minister Justin Trudeau at a Spanish heritage event, where he spoke with me and honoured the work we were doing. That moment showed me how far I had come and how much more I could give back.
I will always be grateful for what Canada has given me: safety, friends, and community. It was not easy. Before I found my people, I was very sad and lonely. In Mexico, I thought depression was just something people said when they didn't want to work harder. But I learned that when you feel alone and afraid every day, it is real. My sons and my faith kept me going. If not for them, I would have gone back, returning to danger and uncertainty.
Last year, I returned to Mexico for the first time since coming to Canada. Reconnecting with my loved ones and my roots was incredibly powerful. But it was also painful to see the danger and the sadness that had been normal to me for so long.
In Canada, I have a voice. Even when I was undocumented, I had rights. In Mexico, speaking out was dangerous. Here, I can speak, I can work, and I can dream.
In my community work with newcomers and First Nations communities, I found something that connected my two worlds: the monarch butterflies. In Mexico, the monarchs are a symbol of the spirits of our ancestors returning home. In many Indigenous cultures here in Canada, they hold a similar meaning.
Protecting the monarch's habitat and sharing their story has become a way for me to honour both my Mexican heritage and the First Nations land I live on now. The monarch is like my own journey: crossing borders, carrying history and hope, and always honouring the land and the people.
I know Canada has its problems. It's undeniable. I see more racism, discrimination, and fear in the streets than ever before during my time here. I hope Canadians will remember that we are all connected and that we need to help each other, especially when seeing what is happening south of our border.
I am scared for my loved ones in the United States with the deportations and ICE raids. It feels like the same violence we ran away from. But I trust Canada to stay true to its values. To me, this is what Canada means: a place where my sons are safe, where I have a voice, and where I belong. A place where I can give back some of the love I have received. Every day here is a Canadian moment. My heart is full of hope and gratitude.
In January 2023, after 13 years of waiting, I finally became a permanent resident. I cried so much that day. In December, I bought a Canadian passport ornament for my tree, praying that I would finally become Canadian. God answered my prayer. Now, I know for sure that this is my home.