I have spent my career at the intersection of two callings that many people treat as separate: literary scholarship and social justice activism. In the academy, we analyze texts. In the community, we organize, advocate, and build. But for me, these are not different lives — they are the same work, seen from different angles.

Why Language Matters

Language is never neutral. It carries histories of power, erasure, and resistance. When a newcomer family in Toronto is told their child must stop speaking Turkish or Tagalog at school, that is not just a pedagogical decision — it is a political one. When a postcolonial novelist writes untranslated Yoruba into an English-language novel, that too is a political act, one that insists on the legitimacy of voices that colonial systems tried to silence.

My research on multilingualism in postcolonial fiction has deepened my conviction that language rights are human rights. The stories we read in seminars and the stories told in community centers share a common thread: they are claims to belonging, dignity, and self-determination.

Literature as a Tool for Change

One of the questions I return to in both my scholarship and my activism is: What can stories do?

They can bear witness. Immigrant testimonial fiction preserves experiences that official records overlook. They can resist. Narrative forms — oral histories, zines, personal essays — give communities the means to challenge dominant accounts of who they are. They can build solidarity. Reading across difference is a practice in empathy that I try to cultivate in my classroom and my community workshops alike.

This is why the Community Literacy Initiative matters so much to me. When a parent reads a picture book with their child in two languages, or a teenager writes a personal essay about their family’s migration journey, literature is doing what it does best: connecting people to themselves and to each other.

Bridging the University and the Community

Academics are often criticized — sometimes fairly — for speaking only to one another. I have tried to build my career differently. The Voices of Resistance Archive is one example: a research project that is also a community resource, built in partnership with the people whose stories it preserves.

In my teaching, I assign community-engaged projects alongside traditional essays. Students in my senior seminar on postcolonial literature volunteer with settlement organizations, conduct oral history interviews, and present their work at public events. They learn that literary analysis is not an abstract exercise but a way of paying attention to the world — and that paying attention is the first step toward changing it.

Looking Ahead

There is so much more to do. Language rights in Canada remain unevenly protected. Community literacy programs are perpetually underfunded. The university still has deep work to do on equity, inclusion, and decolonization.

But I am hopeful, because I see the energy of my students, my community partners, and my fellow activists every day. The fight for justice is, at its heart, a fight over stories: who gets to tell them, in what language, and who listens. That is a fight worth having — and one that scholars of literature are uniquely equipped to join.

If any of this resonates with you, I would love to hear from you. Get in touch — whether you are a student, a fellow researcher, a community organizer, or simply someone who believes in the power of words.