Chasing the feeling of home

The privilege, courage, and longing tied to the universal pursuit of home

I consider home to be a feeling. A feeling strongly associated with family, comfort, and belonging. I am originally from British Columbia, yet despite being away from my family and home city, I have been able to slowly begin viewing Victoria College and UofT as my second home. As I was packing my suitcases for the move, I brought my favourite clothes, Lego sets, and pictures of friends and family to almost replicate the feeling of being at home. But you can never replace the feeling of your family being around you all the time, the comfort of your childhood room, or the way home is a safe place where you can be unapologetically yourself. No matter how much I come to love this new city and life, I simply do not think it is possible to perfectly encapsulate ‘home’ away from home.

I often reflect on what a privilege it is to establish a sense of belonging and home so quickly in Toronto. My transition was not as scary as I expected it to be. I had my family to help me move, and I was immediately met with kindness from my floormates and peers. After all, the language is the same, people drive on the same side of the road, and the streets are lined with familiar stores. So, it was not as if my entire world was being flipped upside down.

Yet, when I reflect on my move to Toronto, I can’t help but think of those who have had their homes taken from them or who have had no choice but to leave. I think of refugees, immigrants, and displaced individuals. Specifically, I think of one week in 2022, when I went on a service trip to Brownsville, Texas. For that week, I volunteered at a respite centre for incoming immigrants and asylum seekers from the border with Mexico. This experience changed my perspective on immigration and reminded me of my privilege of having a home and feeling like I belong.

I mainly helped with the distribution of food and clothing, and I had the chance to speak with some of the children and adults staying there. They had all fled their homes, but unlike me, many refugees, immigrants, or asylum seekers did not have a set plan or a strong support system in the aftermath of their move. They dreamed of America or another place offering a fresh start, and it was their courage that gave them the strength to take that chance. Words cannot fully capture my experience and how humbling it was to serve these brave people. I remember many of the faces I met, some people arriving with families and some by themselves. In the evenings, my volunteer group and I were tasked with bringing down gym mats from the attic, which would serve as temporary beds for the hundreds of people staying at the centre. Each mat had a person laying on it with their own dreams and aspirations for what their new home and life would look like.

The centre also had a fenced play area with a slide, books, toys, and a play car. Many of the kids asked me to push them around in the car or to build a tower with the building blocks. I realized that for these children, this little play area provided a place of comfort, since their entire lives were changing. There was even a small baby staying in the centre — who would never remember its old home. To be born in a country one can call a home is a great privilege in of itself.

Moreover, a true home cannot be a place where one does not feel they belong. It was remarkably courageous of each person to make the choice to seek change and a better life for themselves and their families. Every individual carried hope and an unwavering determination to chase that feeling of ‘home’. So yes, home is a privilege. I will never forget how fortunate I am for both the roof over my head, but also the people who make it a place of peace and love.

Home, for me, is somewhere I can always return to for comfort — to be with my family and to be appreciated for being my authentic self. At the end of the day, regardless of who you are or where you come from, we are all just trying to chase that feeling of ‘home.’