Good afternoon everyone, professors, staff, families, friends, and fellow graduates. Congratulations. Just like 90% of my schoolwork these past two years… I totally procrastinated until last night to write this speech. So if it is a bit heartfelt, deep, hilarious, or even slightly revolutionary… you now know why. Under pressure, that’s how diamonds are made. Or in my case, under last-minute panic and insomnia. But we’ll see how it goes.

Before I start, I want to take a brief moment to thank the people who held me up when I didn’t think I could keep going. To my parents – merci infiniment. Vous êtes venus ici d’Algérie pour bâtir une vie meilleure, pour chercher des opportunités que vous n’aviez pas eues. Vous avez été les survivants d’hier, pour que nous, vos enfants, puissions devenir les bâtisseurs de demain. Ce que vous avez enduré, c’est ce qui nous donne aujourd’hui la force, à nous la deuxième génération, de rêver, de réussir, et de construire ici, avec dignité.

Abi, tu m’as appris à garder la tête haute, à rester ancrée, et à ne jamais oublier d’où je viens. Mama, tu as cru en moi-même dans les moments où moi, je n’y croyais plus – et ça, ça a tout changé. Une reconnaissance toute particulière à ma mère, qui a subi la discrimination toute sa vie à cause de son identité religieuse et ethnique : tu as brillé quand on a tenté de t’éteindre, et tu nous as permis, mes frères et moi, de briller encore plus fort. Tu es ma boussole et ma plus grande motivation.

À mes petits frères, Idris et Ishak, merci de me rappeler de rire, de rester humble, et de ne jamais me prendre trop au sérieux. And to my older brother Mohamed Ilyes – who’s currently enjoying his time in the Netherlands – thank you for helping me figure out Omnivox and all the registration stuff. You truly inspire me to reach my academic goals every day.

To my teachers – Kelly Phipps, Michael Duckett, Djemma Maazouzi, Miss Nem, Monsieur Rezoug, and Mister Sepulveda – thank you for your patience, your brilliance, and the way you challenged me to think more critically, speak more boldly, and never stop asking questions.

To the friends who carried me through some of my hardest days of CEGEP –  Dorlicas and Bahara – thank you for being there at 1 a.m. when I was panicking over an essay or a test. Thank you for the notes, the hugs, the chaos, the love. And finally, to my cousins and family back in Algeria – thank you for always believing in me from across the ocean, for your love that travels continents. Le reste que j’ai pas nommé, vous savez déjà, c’est dans le coeur, merci beaucoup.

When I first stepped into Dawson College, I never imagined becoming your valedictorian. To be honest, I didn’t believe I had the potential – or even the legitimacy – to be in this position. But then came a teacher – Miss Gilbert – who believed in me. She encouraged me to apply. And thanks to her words at that moment, I’m here. You know, I once had a teacher in elementary school who literally put me on a “three-question-a-day” limit. Three! As if I was some kind of walking Q&A machine overheating the class.

Apparently, I was “getting ahead of the group” with my curiosity. I met also teachers who looked at me sideways when I spoke about my goals. Who hinted I was aiming too high. But here’s the thing: A single spark of encouragement can light up the darkest doubt. Whether it’s a teacher, a sibling, a parent, a friend, a partner, or someone who just gets you, the people who choose to lift you up are priceless.

So be that person. For someone else. Because you never know when your words might be the reason someone keeps going. You never know when your kindness becomes the turning point in someone’s story. In a world that often tells us to compete, to compare, to rush – choose instead to uplift. Because honestly, all of us – deep down – we’re just nerdy, curious little explorers trying to figure it all out together. So, let’s do it together.

At Dawson, I found a space where curiosity was welcomed – no, encouraged! I’ve had the joy of learning from Dawson teachers and staff who did the exact opposite of silencing questions – they opened doors. They challenged us, laughed with us, stayed after class with us. They made this journey not just possible, but deeply meaningful. Dawson became a place where learning continued in DSU student club spaces, in the library, in the hallways, in the upper atrium, in Conrod’s. The atmosphere was alive with ideas and passion. Thanks to our teachers and staff, we didn’t just learn – we got involved. We fundraised. We created. We protested. We debated. We volunteered.

And a huge part of that student-led magic came from the Dawson Student Union, who supported countless clubs and initiatives that gave us the freedom to turn our interests into action. Whether it was through multicultural celebrations, mental health awareness, political engagement, or just offering a safe space to belong, the DSU and all the clubs it supports gave voice to what matters to us. So, thank you.

To the teachers who believed in us, the staff who supported us, and the student union who made Dawson feel like a home. You made this chapter of our lives not only educational, but unforgettable. You didn’t just prepare us for the world, you reminded us that we have the power to shape it.

And to my fellow graduates in Social Science and Business Technologies – We made it. Seriously. After two years of stressing over this mysterious incalculable R-score, pulling all-nighters, rushing to finish papers five minutes before the deadline, Mio-ing teachers in full panic, and pretending to understand economics in 8:00 a.m. classes… here we are.

Some of us were juggling jobs, dealing with mental health, family responsibilities, or learning a whole new system. Some of us weren’t even sure we’d make it to the end, but we did. And that’s worth celebrating. We didn’t just memorize definitions and write essays – we grew. We debated real-world problems, challenged systems, asked hard questions. We showed up for our classmates, our communities, and for ourselves.

So, whether you’re heading to university, starting a new job, or just taking a well-deserved break, remember this: everything we’ve learned, lived, and survived here is coming with us. And I couldn’t be prouder to graduate alongside people as sharp, passionate, and driven as you all.

In the same time, I want to take a moment to honour some of our peers – the Indigenous students graduating alongside us today. Your presence here is powerful. In a country where your communities have faced generations of erasure, your success – this very diploma – is not just a personal achievement; it is a quiet but powerful act of resistance. It is a peaceful protest against systemic racism and centuries of marginalization. You are not only succeeding, you are doing so on your land. And that is something to be more than proud of.

As someone born here to Algerian Amazigh parents who faced discrimination in France and came searching for dignity, I carry with me a deep respect for what it means to claim space – when the world around you tries to tell you you don’t belong. Whether it’s through language, dress, or history, so many of us – Indigenous, racialized, immigrants and other minorities – have had to fight just to be heard.

And so today, I invite every one of you to listen deeply and engage with empathy and tolerance. As we step further into the world and shape its future, let’s carry with us the awareness and the responsibility to stand in solidarity – with all those still seeking recognition, still protecting their heritage, still striving for justice. On this land, and in every land under occupation –vfrom Congo, to Sudan, to Ukraine, all the way to Falistin.

I’ve always been told: “Don’t take things too personally, Aya.” “Ne prends pas tout à coeur.” Ignore the bullies. Don’t let criticism get to you. But here’s the truth: I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t taken things to heart. I took the bullying, the failures, the questions, the suffering of others – I took them personally. Because when you take something to heart, you care about it. And when you care, you act. You learn. You change. You lead.

So yes, fellow graduates, I tell you – take your life to heart. Care about your future, your health, your loved ones, your community. Care about your studies, your art, your job, your mental health. Care deeply, passionately, urgently. Because indifference is not neutrality – indifference is silence, and silence can be dangerous. So be “engaged” – but not just in the activist sense. Be engaged in your friendships. In your passions. In the way you show up for your loved ones. In the way you seek knowledge.

Don’t be passive passengers – be present, be loud, be kind, and be involved in everything that is dear to you. And most importantly, be real with yourself AND the world. Because, To quote Snoop Dog, the world doesn’t need any more copies, it needs originals. Wake up each morning remembering this other line from Kung Fu Panda: Yesterday is a lesson. Today is a gift. And tomorrow is a promise. And at the end of the day, what doesn’t kill you – adds a line to your CV.

So don’t be afraid of the unknown. Embrace it. Your future needs you more than your past ever did. So don’t try too hard to blend in, because you are meant to stand out, with purpose. Congratulations, Dawson College Class of 2025 Social Science and Business Technologies. We’ve made it!