When we arrived at Queen’s University, we knew the statistics. We knew we were stepping into a space where students of colour were the minority, and where the institution had a long-standing reputation of being predominantly white. But knowing the numbers couldn’t have fully prepared us for the reality of what that meant.
For many students of colour, university isn’t just about academics, extracurriculars, and social life—it’s also about navigating spaces that weren’t designed with us in mind. It’s about pauses before speaking in class, wondering if your perspective will be dismissed. It’s about the quiet exhaustion of code switching, encountering microaggressions that others dismiss as misunderstandings. It’s about walking into a lecture hall and realizing no one else looks like you. We can’t even count how many times we’ve been the only people of colour in a class or group project.
The burden of creating belonging shouldn’t fall on students, but it often does.
Queen’s University has made efforts to acknowledge its history and improve diversity, equity, and inclusion on campus. Statements have been made and commitments have been outlined. Notably, beginning with the 2020-21 application cycle, Queen’s sought to reduce systemic barriers in medical education by reserving 10 of its 100 seats in each MD program cohort for Black and Indigenous students, a retribution for their history of refusing issions to Black students.
Despite Queen’s efforts to promote diversity, equity, and inclusion, students of colour continue to face systemic barriers that hinder their sense of belonging and academic success. Representation alone isn’t enough if students aren’t provided with the resources, , and institutional commitment needed to thrive.
Racism may not be as prominent or outright as it used to be, but many students still experience microaggressions, a lack of culturally competent services, and the burden of navigating spaces where they feel like outsiders. It can be as subtle as being excluded from hangouts, feeling overlooked in group settings, or hearing comments that downplay our achievements.
As students of colour at Queen’s, our experiences have shaped the way we view community, identity, and belonging. Despite our different backgrounds of South Asian and Eritrean, we have both experienced the challenges of navigating spaces where our presence wasn’t always expected or acknowledged.
Coming to Queen’s meant facing a different kind of cultural disconnect, not just in offhanded comments but in the subtle, persistent moments that made it clear we were different. Arriving on campus was met with the excitement of discovering strong cultural communities but also the struggle of finding a space that truly felt like home. That process took time and effort, and at times, it felt isolating.
Everything changed when we found the right spaces—ones where we were validated, where our experiences weren’t dismissed but shared and understood. These communities became a foundation, reinforcing the notion that representation isn’t just important; it’s necessary. But the reality is, these spaces often exist because students have fought to create them. This shouldn’t be the case.
Even within these communities, challenges remain. Microaggressions, assumptions, and the fear of retaliation when advocating for change can be exhausting. But those very experiences create an urgency to push back, to make space, and to ensure students of colour aren’t just included, but empowered.
Community, for us, isn’t just about social comfort. It’s about survival. It’s what keeps us engaged when the institution itself feels unwelcoming. It’s what gives us the strength to challenge systemic barriers. Most importantly, it’s what reminds us we’re never alone in our experiences.
Creating a truly inclusive and ive campus environment requires intentional and sustained efforts. One approach is the implementation of comprehensive mentorship programs that connect incoming students of colour with upper-year students who have navigated similar challenges. These programs can provide guidance, foster a sense of belonging, and empower students to embrace their identities while thriving in an academic setting.
Beyond student , institutional change is essential. Hiring more faculty of colour across various disciplines is a crucial step toward meaningful representation as only 16 per cent of the faculty belong to a visible minority as of 2023. It’s not enough to have diversity solely in roles related to equity and inclusion, faculty of different backgrounds should be visible in all fields, allowing students to see themselves reflected in academia and in positions of power.
While planning a event featuring professors of colour to share their experiences and challenges, we were faced with a harsh reality. Within our Health Sciences program, we struggled to find speakers, not because there weren’t accomplished faculty , but because there were so few professors of colour to begin with. This stark disparity is more than just a number, it highlights the ongoing lack of representation in academia and the urgent need for systemic change.
Representation at this level not only enriches the learning experience but also fosters an environment where diverse perspectives are valued and normalized.
Additionally, integrating diverse viewpoints into curricula is fundamental to providing a well-rounded education for all students, regardless of their backgrounds. A curriculum that acknowledges and respects different cultures and lived experiences fosters critical thinking, challenges biases, and prepares students to engage meaningfully in an increasingly interconnected world.
At its core, institutional must recognize that the work of fostering belonging shouldn’t be the responsibility of the students who are already marginalized. True inclusion isn’t about students of colour finding ways to fit into existing structures, it’s about transforming existing structures so they reflect and the diverse identities of the students they serve.
Despite our challenges, we’ve found strength in each other. We’ve built friendships, organizations, and movements that affirm our worth and uplift our voices. The existence of these spaces is a testament to our resilience, but they shouldn’t have to be born out of necessity. True belonging shouldn’t be a privilege reserved for a select few—it should be a fundamental part of the university experience for everyone.
Our journeys have taught us fostering inclusivity requires both resilience and initiative, and we’re committed to contributing to a campus environment where every student, regardless of their background, feels seen, valued, and ed. This is what encouraged us to the Students of Colour Collective, one of the programs under the Arts and Science Undergraduate Society Equity Commission, as co-chairs. We decided to create a space for all students of colour to have a space where their voices can not only be heard, but also celebrated.
Diversity and inclusion cannot be ive ideals or reactive measures. They require tangible actions, sustained investment, institutional commitment and a willingness to listen to the voices of those most affected by systemic barriers. The responsibility to create an equitable environment doesn’t rest on students of colour alone; the University has an institutional obligation. They must go beyond statements and symbolic gestures and take concrete steps to ensure students and faculty of colour aren’t only present, but ed and valued.
To the students of colour: You belong here. Your presence isn’t conditional, and your success isn’t in spite of your identity but because of the strength, resilience, and perspective you bring. Seek out community, take up space, and know you’re not alone. If the structures in place don’t you, know that there are those of us willing to build something new alongside you. Together, we’re not just finding space—we’re creating it.
Denize D’Souza is a fourth-year Health Sciences student and Yoskan Haile is a third-year Health Sciences student. They’re the 2024-25 Co-Chairs of the Students of Colour Collective.
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Zedrick Serson
> Queen’s sought to reduce systemic barriers in medical education by reserving 10 of its 100 seats in each MD program cohort for Black and Indigenous students, a retribution for their history of refusing issions to Black students.
That’s an interesting way to phrase “directly harm Indigenous students by allocating the QuARMS seats as being solely for Black students because heaven forbid Queen’s make a new program to help Black students.”
Zedrick Serson
I stand corrected, QuARMS is now for Black and Indigenous students. It was still a terrible idea to do that though, especially when Queen’s is part of the problem of a shortage of doctors thanks to artificially capping seats in the School of Medicine.