09/03/2026
My mom hates it when we call her a feminist.
But she is one.
In 1969, at 26 years old, my mother, Rajammal Ram, left India and came to Canada by herself.
She arrived with a nursing degree, her Bharatanatyam ankle bells, very little money, and a job waiting for her in Lethbridge.
Everything that came after that, she built.
She built a career in nursing. She married my dad and raised a family. She spent decades teaching classical Indian dance and sharing a culture and tradition that had very little presence in Alberta when she arrived.
For more than 30 years, my dad drove her from Camrose to Edmonton every Saturday so she could teach. Her students went on to perform at community celebrations, cultural events and even the 1978 Commonwealth Games.
She became a founding board member of the Alberta Malayalee Association. She served with the Council of India Societies of Edmonton. She performed, taught, raised money for charities, built community and helped generations of young people stay connected to their culture.
Along the way, she has been recognized many times for that work, including receiving the Queen Elizabeth II Platinum Jubilee Medal in 2022.
But the awards aren't really what impress me most.
It's what it took to build that life in the first place.
She came from very little, at a time when the path for a young woman like her could very easily have been decided for her.
She decided anyway.
She left home.
She left her country.
She built a career.
She built a family.
She became a leader.
She never stopped sharing what she knew with the people around her.
This year, the Council of India Societies of Edmonton recognized her story as part of its Golden Jubilee, celebrating 50 years from 1976–2026.
At 83, she's still teaching.
She's still dancing.
She's still probably going to tell me she isn't a feminist.
Sorry, Mom.
I'm incredibly proud of you.
Rithesh