Real Life of a Lawyer – Blue Jacket | Part 1

I have no money for food. As I wash the dishes, I feel so hungry I actually grab someone’s half eaten nachos and eat them. I don’t feel ashamed.

Greasy water bounces off from the dish spray on to the plate and back into my eyes again. This is the 6th time now in 2 hours and my eyes burn. I squeeze my eyelids so tight trying to expel the grease. Irritated tears fall again. I continue.

Behind the scenes at the restaurant of UVic’s student union, I wash another one of hundreds of dishes I am supposed to wash today. They are stacked up like a mountain. All filled with food and grease and I am tackling them one by one. It is 2003. I am 21 years old.

The Chance After Being Kicked Out of University

I feel lucky I got this job regardless. Today in my 4 hour shift of washing dishes, I will earn $40 dollars which will pay for the food I need to eat. I have been eating from cans for the past 2 weeks and need something fresh.

So far I have lost about 20 pounds from not being able to eat proper food.

I have just gained re-entry to University of Victoria after having been expelled from it. I am here alone. Surviving on a small loan by the government which I fought tooth and nail to get, given my previous failing grades.  No one believes in me. There is no money coming from my parents. I have no friends. I only have me, and my dream.

I have been here before.

Washing Dishes at Taco Time and that Over-sized Jacket

At the age of 14 and 6 months after immigrating to Canada, I landed my first job as a dishwasher at Taco Time in Park Royal. My English was too broken to get any other jobs.

At 6 in the morning on the winter weekends when most other teenagers would be fast asleep in their cozy beds, I would wake up and put on my father’s jacket and take the bus to Park Royal to start my shift washing dishes all day.

My dad’s blue, puffy jacket was way too big for my small body, and smelled strongly of tacos. I would wear that jacket to school as I had no other jackets. It smelled so much so that I was constantly made fun of because of it. I hated being made fun of, but felt more independent and strong having a job at the age of 14. I was making enough money to pay for my food and hopefully nicer clothes very soon.

It wasn’t that my parents couldn’t afford to pay for me. It was that they didn’t want to. I was to stand up on my own two feet, just like the rest of my family.

Selling Gum and Walking 8 Hours Per Day

My father began work at the age of 5. He would sell gum to other kids in his town. Back then in his town there were no cars. At the age of 7, he would walk 4 hours each way to school and back, every single day. He would start walking at 4 a.m. and return home at 8 p.m., each day.

When he was admitted to university, he worked full time everyday and attended night school, full-time.

One night before handing in one of his final assignments before becoming an architect, he collapsed as he was walking past my sister and I who were playing on the floor. We were 3 and 4 years old. I remember crystal clear how my mom grabbed him in her arms and gave him water and told him to rest; just for one day.

My mother got married to my father at the age of 18 and was pregnant with my sister by the time she was 19. At 20, she was pregnant with me. Beginning with her teenage years, she raised both myself and my sister as my father worked and attended school.

When my father finally graduated from his architectural degree and began working in that sector, my mother applied to university and finished her bachelor’s and later master’s degree.

We never had financial support from anyone.

The story of how we found ourselves immigrating to Canada when I was 14 will be in the next blog. But it all started with a joke (I will explain later).

We arrived with 4 suitcases in Canada, and with nothing but each other.

The Lonely and Sad Years of High School

When we arrived, we all started working immediately. Me at Taco Time, my sister at a coffee shop and my mother at a shoe store.

But nothing was as sad as walking through the hallways of my new school and having no friends. Trying to talk to the other kids only to have them turn their backs on me.

I would leave school at lunch and come home to eat on my own because I was too ashamed of walking those hallways without any friends. Every year on the first day of school, I would cry and make my way to classes without anyone to walk with, anyone to share classes with.

I would often sit at my desk in class alone when others would share desks and talk/laugh away. I remember feeling so ashamed for who I was.

On my first Halloween in Canada, I excitedly put my witch custom on, thinking the kids would think I am cool and would want to hang out. Instead that day they threw gum in my hair as they made fun of me.

At prom, I had no dates. I never attended school dances as no one would dance with me. No one would invite me. In my PE classes, no one would pair up with me.

One guy would actually put on gloves when it was his turn to hold my hand and line dance with me to avoid touching me. I have no words for the rejection I felt every time he would stop and take out his gloves to put on before grabbing my hands.

My school teachers were fantastic but most of the rejection/bullying was not verbal so I couldn’t talk about it. I also wouldn’t talk about it with my parents because as a teenager you are not supposed to run to mommy and daddy and complain. Or so I thought.

Internalizing Rejection

This was all because I was a newcomer to Canada, or as they said “FOB” (Fresh of the Boat). I didn’t speak good English, my hair was freezy and my dad’s jacket was not fashionable enough to please anyone’s eyes. I simply wasn’t a cool kid as much as I wanted to be.

I could only dream of talking to boys. I was head over heels in love with a boy who didn’t even know my name. Didn’t really even know I existed. I walked past him everyday and shared classes with him, but he never looked at me. He was busy talking to the gorgeous blondes who had nice clothes and non-freezy hair.

I remember one day I just broke down and cried straight from the time I woke up, on my way to school, during every class, during lunch, on my way home, during dinner and in bed before falling asleep due to exhaustion. During that entire time at school, no one came up to me to ask if I was even OK.

In my child mind I wasn’t able to make sense or analyze what was happening. Instead, I internalized that I wasn’t good enough. That I should be ashamed of myself. That I wasn’t lovable. That no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get their approval.

That day was one of those life changing days in my life when seeds of depression and anxiety were planted in my soul. I was now profoundly, eternally rejected. And for the rest of my life, I either drowned into that sorrow, or fought harder than I ever could to avoid it.

So back to the dishes at UVic and my burning eyes, I told myself: if I could get through that, I can get through this. 

To be continued…

Written by Leena Yousefi, October 17, 2020. All of the above, happened.