One of the hardest lessons I had to learn after moving to Canada had nothing to do with my profession.

It had to do with talking about myself.

Back in India, I rarely had to. My work spoke for itself. Colleagues, students, mentors, institutions, and organisations often introduced me through my achievements. Opportunities came because someone else knew my work and spoke about it. I never had to become my own marketing department.

Then I arrived in Canada.

Like so many immigrants, I came with two suitcases, decades of professional experience, and a lifetime of stories.

But there was one problem.No one here knew them.No one was waiting to tell my story. No one could explain to a prospective employer why I would be a valuable addition to their team.

I had to do it myself.

And if you grew up believing that speaking about your achievements sounded boastful, you will understand how uncomfortable that feels. Every interview became an exercise in proving myself.

Every networking event required me to explain who I was, what I had accomplished, and why it mattered. At times, it was exhausting. Not because I lacked experience. But because I had never learned how to speak confidently about it.

Then something changed.

I was fortunate. Many of the professionals who interviewed me were immigrants themselves. They understood what it meant to leave behind a respected career and begin again. They listened. They looked beyond job titles and foreign experience. They saw potential where I feared only gaps.

Those conversations reminded me that not every barrier is as high as we imagine.

The biggest barrier was often the one inside me. Slowly, I began to change. I started writing. I started speaking. I started sharing my journey.

And something unexpected happened. People listened. Not because I had become louder.

But because I had finally stopped apologising for my own story. A decade later, I no longer saw self-promotion as self-importance.

I saw it as self-advocacy.

As immigrants, we cannot always rely on others to introduce us. Sometimes, we have to become the voice that opens the first door.

Not with arrogance. Not with exaggeration, as I always told my international students. But with honesty, confidence, and quiet conviction.

Because there is no guilt in telling the truth about your own journey. If you don’t tell your story, who will?