I checked the mail this morning and, amongst a pile of newspapers and pizza coupons, there were several flyers with photos and names of people I don’t remember. They probably said something like “VOTE FOR [insert name] ON [insert date].” I vaguely understood that they were campaign flyers for some upcoming election, as they resembled the ones I had ignored in the past. Like always, I threw the flyers straight into the recycling bin that is conveniently right next to my mailbox (and brought the pizza coupons inside).
This is what I thought about when Sandy asked me to be the Policy Lead for the MAPS lab.
Me?! The Policy Lead?! The person who throws out campaign flyers, doesn’t vote in municipal elections, and couldn’t even tell you the mayor’s name or the difference between an MP and an MPP?!
You’ve got to be kidding.
But she wasn’t kidding. Because despite my complete lack of understanding about politics, one thing is true about me: I care deeply about the community. I swear, I want to help create change that allows all citizens to thrive and doesn’t leave some without food, housing, or healthcare.
But if I care so much, then why do I avoid politics?!
Like many of us, I don’t avoid it because I don’t care. I avoid it because:
A) It’s confusing and overwhelming, and researching it often leaves me even more confused
B) It can create tension and conflict between me and my friends and family
C) It feels like my voice won’t matter anyways
Politics and policy work is like learning an entirely new language, with the added feature of having to choose a side. To understand politics, you need to understand terms like “councillor,” “riding,” “district,” and “municipality.” To understand policy, you need to understand terms like “act,” “bill,” “bylaw,” and “royal assent.” To understand how to change policy, you must know who the relevant leaders are and how to reach them without being ignored.
Even something as simple as voting requires us to figure out who the candidates are and their positions on important community issues. This means we need to be aware of important community issues, which (if you’re like me) means we must understand all sides of the issue, which can actually be notoriously difficult.
There’s so much information online that it’s hard not to go down a rabbit hole while researching these topics. You might start by reading news reports or government websites, but suddenly find yourself lost in a sea of YouTube comments where people throw around words like “snowflake” and “bigot.” Eventually, you might turn your computer off, feeling even more confused than before (and maybe even a little angry).
Honestly, politics is scary, because it’s more than just holding an opinion. Political beliefs are often treated similarly to personality traits, or perhaps even personality “flaws” if you ask the wrong person on the opposite side. Our world is extremely politically divided, and this division makes it hard to engage in open conversation about politics, let alone publicly advocate for policy change.
If you’ve ever been to a family dinner and felt a twinge in your stomach when politics is mentioned, you know what I’m talking about. If you’ve learned to listen and nod your head in agreement with someone else’s political views even when you don’t agree, you know what I’m talking about. If you’ve ever been in a room full of people who have different opinions than you and left feeling like you’re the one who must be in the wrong, you know what I’m talking about.
I, of course, have done all of these things.
I have also resorted to avoiding political conversations altogether by adopting a common phrase – “I don’t pay attention to politics. The world is going to suck no matter what we do.” This squashes arguments before they even start because it paints me as a neutral person with no opinion on the matter. It allows me to be the Switzerland of politics, if you will.
But I’m tired of being Switzerland. I want to be an Ally.
And yet I still struggle to know where to begin. Some days, the size of what needs to change still feels too overwhelming. Life is hard. It feels like every day, it gets harder and harder to afford basic necessities like housing and food. Rates of poverty, homelessness, and mental health challenges continue to rise, yet the government continues to cut funding for social services.
For many of us, the trajectory of our country feels very dark. Changing it almost doesn’t feel possible. Society feels too broken. I feel too small to fix it.
But maybe that’s the problem
Maybe I’ve been focusing too much on the “I,” when I should’ve been focusing on the “we.”
I might only be one person. My vote might only be one in an ocean of thousands, and my loudest voice might only sound like a whisper to those who hold the power.
But what happens when one voice becomes many?
When more and more people know how to recognize and speak up against injustice?
Only 22% of people voted in the 2026 municipal election in Kitchener (and, admittedly, I wasn’t one of them). But what happens when that 22% becomes something bigger?
What happens when we realize the strength and power we do have?
Because there is hope. Change is possible.
We just need to work together to create that change.
And maybe we don’t need to understand every law, acronym, or election before we start. Maybe we can start with just one question: who makes the decisions that shape our lives, and how can we be part of them?
I want to help answer this question. Not just for myself, but for others, too.
And that’s what I hope to do as the Policy Lead with the MAPS Lab.
I’m going to ask the questions I used to be too embarrassed to ask, and I’m going to try to make the answers a little easier for everyone to understand.
If policy is new to you too, I hope you’ll come learn alongside me. If you’re already a policy expert, I hope you’ll share your knowledge, too. There’s room for all of us here.
And next time I find campaign flyers in my mailbox? I’ll probably still bring the pizza coupons inside. But I think I’ll read the flyers, too.