Winnipeg Through the Eyes of an Immigrant Mother

From Silence to Strength: How One Immigrant Mother Helped Transform Winnipeg’s Cultural Tapestry

When Martha Avilés first stepped onto a snowy Winnipeg sidewalk more than four decades ago, she was greeted not with words, but with silence. “I waited for the bus and no one even said hello,” she recalls with a wry smile. For someone raised in a Latin American culture defined by warmth, daily connection, and the easy intimacy of unplanned visits, the quietness of Canadian social norms wasn’t just unfamiliar—it was deeply disorienting.

“I came from a place where you always greeted people, even strangers,” she says. “Here, I felt like I was invisible.”

And yet, over time, that silence was filled—with language, with community, with purpose. Today, Martha is widely recognized as a cornerstone of Winnipeg’s Central American community, a mentor to immigrant women, and a fierce advocate for cultural preservation. Her story is not just about survival—it’s about transformation. Of herself. Of her family. And, in her own quiet way, of the city she now proudly calls home.

The Unseen Burdens of Immigrant Women

While much has been written about immigration in Canada, the inner lives and emotional labour of immigrant mothers often remain in the margins. For Martha, the move to Canada was more than just a geographic relocation—it was a seismic shift in identity, responsibility, and emotional weight.

“The immigrant path is difficult,” she says. “But for women, it’s like carrying several suitcases at once. We hold everything—our families, our cultures, our fears, and our hopes.”

In those early days, sleepless nights were the norm. Martha worried about the family she’d left behind in Costa Rica, while simultaneously trying to build something stable for her children in a place that often felt alien. Language barriers compounded everything. Jobs were hard to find. Her professional experience was undervalued, and navigating public systems felt like learning to breathe underwater.

Her teenage children, thrown into a school system that offered only minimal ESL support, struggled to fit in. They were met with exclusion and subtle discrimination—not just from peers, but sometimes from teachers, including those who were immigrants themselves. “It was like they had forgotten what it felt like to be new,” Martha says.

Culture as Resistance, and as Inheritance

In the midst of this uncertainty, Martha made a quiet but powerful decision: to fiercely protect her family’s cultural identity. “Inside our house,” she told her children, “we are in Costa Rica.”

At first, her children resisted. Spanish felt like a burden in a world that demanded assimilation. But slowly, with time and maturity, they began to understand. They saw how their heritage was not a barrier—but a bridge.

Today, that bridge extends into a new generation. Martha’s Canadian-born granddaughter speaks Spanish fluently and embraces her Latin roots with pride. “That’s when I knew it was worth it,” Martha says. “Because integration should never mean erasure.”

What Martha did was more than parenting—it was cultural preservation. A quiet act of resistance against the pressure to blend in by giving up who you are.

From Learner to Leader

But Martha’s journey didn’t end with personal transformation. She became a builder of systems. A bridge between cultures. A mentor.

Years ago, she joined a pilot project for immigrant women in Winnipeg. The program focused on workplace integration, cultural literacy, and confidence-building—tools that were missing when she first arrived. “We learned everything,” she says. “How to do job interviews, how to shake hands, even what topics to avoid in conversation.”

But more than that, the program offered recognition. “It reminded us that we came here with intelligence, with skills, with value. We just needed the tools to translate that.”

Today, Martha mentors newly arrived women—especially single mothers and those raising children with disabilities. She offers the kind of support she once wished she had.

A Hidden Infrastructure of Care

Martha’s story is not rare. In fact, it’s emblematic of the invisible infrastructure immigrant mothers provide to cities like Winnipeg.

They are cultural translators, informal educators, therapists, caregivers, organizers. Their unpaid, often unrecognized labour sustains families, strengthens communities, and enriches Canada’s multicultural fabric.

They don’t just adapt—they help entire communities adapt. They don’t just integrate—they redefine what integration can look like.

In Martha’s case, her strength became a ripple—touching the lives of dozens, perhaps hundreds of other women and families in similar shoes.

Looking Forward: A Message to Newcomers—and to the City

“We must accept reality, support each other, and never forget why we came,” Martha says with quiet conviction. “We didn’t leave our countries to fail. We came to build something together.”

To newcomers, she offers practical wisdom. Let go of status and ego, she says—but never let go of your values, your language, your stories.

To Winnipeg, her message is equally clear: a welcoming city isn’t built only by policies or slogans—it’s built by listening. By seeing the people behind the paperwork. By recognizing that every newcomer brings not just needs, but gifts.

“We don’t come empty,” Martha says. “We come carrying a whole world with us.”

And because of women like her, Winnipeg is richer for it.

Cuando Martha Avilés llegó por primera vez a Winnipeg hace más de 40 años, se encontró en una ciudad de silencios. “Esperaba el autobús y nadie me decía ni hola,” recuerda. Proveniente de una cultura latinoamericana rica en calidez, conexión diaria y visitas espontáneas entre vecinos, el silencio de las normas sociales canadienses no solo le pareció extraño, sino profundamente solitario. 

oy, Martha es un pilar reconocido de la comunidad centroamericana en Winnipeg. Su historia es una de adaptación, resiliencia y, finalmente, transformación —no solo de ella y su familia, sino también de la ciudad que ahora llama hogar. 

El Peso Invisible que Cargan las Mujeres Inmigrantes 

Mucho se ha dicho sobre la experiencia migratoria en Canadá, pero las voces de madres inmigrantes como Martha merecen mayor reconocimiento. Su camino no implica únicamente cambiar de país, sino un desarraigo emocional, psicológico y cultural. “El camino del migrante es difícil,” dice Martha, “pero para la mujer migrante es como cargar varias maletas a la vez.” 

Los primeros días en Winnipeg estuvieron marcados por noches sin dormir, preocupada por la familia que dejó atrás y el futuro que intentaba construir. Las barreras del idioma, la incertidumbre profesional y el choque cultural se combinaban. Para sus hijos —entonces adolescentes—, el sistema escolar ofrecía apoyo en inglés, pero la integración fue dolorosa. Enfrentaron aislamiento social y, en ocasiones, discriminación sutil, incluso por parte de maestros inmigrantes que ya habían olvidado su propio proceso de adaptación. 

Preservar la Cultura como Resistencia y Legado 

En medio de esta lucha, Martha tomó una decisión crucial: preservar las raíces latinoamericanas de su familia. Aunque al principio sus hijos se resistían a hablar español, con el tiempo aprendieron a valorar su identidad cultural. “Dentro de esta casa, estamos en Costa Rica,” les decía. Esa postura se convirtió en cimiento no solo para el bilingüismo de sus hijos, sino también para su sentido de pertenencia. 

Hoy, su nieta —nacida en Canadá— habla español con fluidez. Es un legado que confirma la convicción de Martha: integrarse no significa borrarse. 

Crear Comunidad, Cambiar Sistemas 

El camino de Martha también es de construcción de puentes. Participó en un proyecto piloto para mujeres inmigrantes en Winnipeg que enseñaba sobre la adaptación cultural, la integración laboral y cómo navegar los sistemas canadienses con confianza. “Nos enseñaban cómo comportarnos, qué hacer y qué no hacer, cómo prepararnos para una entrevista,” recuerda. 

Hoy existen más servicios de apoyo que hace 40 años, pero el peso emocional sigue siendo una constante para muchas recién llegadas. Martha es ahora mentora de mujeres jóvenes que enfrentan desafíos similares, especialmente madres solteras o con hijos con discapacidades. 

El Valor Agregado que las Madres Migrantes Aportan a Winnipeg 

Historias como la de Martha representan un “plus-valía” social invaluable para Winnipeg. Las madres inmigrantes se convierten en embajadoras culturales, educadoras informales, traductoras, mentoras emocionales y organizadoras comunitarias. Su trabajo —muchas veces invisible y no remunerado— fortalece familias, preserva el patrimonio cultural y teje resiliencia en el entramado social de la ciudad. 

Son el ejemplo vivo de que es posible adaptarse sin dejar de ser uno mismo, y de que integrarse no significa olvidar quién eres. 

Un Mensaje Final para los Recién Llegados y para la Ciudad 

“Debemos aceptar la realidad, apoyarnos mutuamente y no olvidar por qué vinimos,” dice Martha. “No dejamos nuestros países para fracasar. Vinimos a construir algo juntos.” 

Su consejo para las parejas inmigrantes es sencillo pero profundo: deja atrás el estatus o el ego, pero nunca tus valores ni tu amor. Y su deseo para Winnipeg: que siga creciendo como una ciudad acogedora, que no solo reciba a los nuevos, sino que también aprenda de ellos.