Hello from Medellín!

I am currently based in the heart of Medellín, Colombia, for my six-week LiA. People commonly know Medellín for its complex history tied to violence and drug cartels, but I wanted to go deeper. I chose to use my background in communications to work with underprivileged children whose families survive through the informal sector—street vending, domestic labour, and other forms of unrecognized work that are often excluded from formal protections and opportunities.

Medellín is a beautiful city renowned for its resilience. But despite its development, the gap in access to quality education between privileged and marginalized communities, especially when compared to Bogotá, is still vast. Many children and teens grow up surrounded by systemic barriers that limit their ability to dream beyond survival.

With this perspective, my project places a strong emphasis on the following Sustainable Development Goals:

• #4: Quality education
• #10: Reduced inequalities
• #1: End poverty
• #8: Promote decent work

My experiences this week…

A few hours after I arrived in Medellín, Colombia, I met the participants of Corporación Pueblo Los Niños. Their center is located in the heart of El Centro Medellín, on a street known for micro-trafficking and black-market activity.

As I entered the office, I began learning more about the program through conversations with the psychologists. Many of the children come from families in the informal work sector, though 'family' may not always mean blood relatives. These backgrounds include street vendors, low-income households, and perhaps undocumented workers. Essentially, any labour not formally recognized by the state. Most of them are migrants from Venezuela, navigating a difficult new life in Colombia

Because of this, they are often excluded from public life and opportunities. They’re criminalized, surveilled, and displaced from public spaces, making daily survival even more difficult. Over time, this exclusion can become internalized—many stop trying to push forward and instead focus only on getting through the day.

Shortly after, I was introduced to the children and teens in the program, ranging in age from 9 to 19. The goal of the organization is to support them until they can enter the workforce, helping them avoid cycles of violence and vulnerability. These are children and adolescents at risk of psychosocial challenges, and the program offers them tools to imagine and build a future grounded in agency.

They first showed me the podcast they’ve been working on within their program. For me to get to know them better, we then stepped outside for a group photography activity, exploring the concept of observation and documentation. This exercise was a way for them to get comfortable with looking at their environment more intentionally. To notice what often gets ignored, to find meaning in the everyday, and to begin understanding what it means to tell a story through their lens.

On July 10, I had my first official planning meeting with both Corporación Pueblo Los Chicos and Casa Tres Patios. Together, we mapped out how I’ll design teaching plans that gamify learning while focusing on recognizing bias, questioning stereotypes, and understanding how media reinforces inequality. The aim is to help students critically examine how they’re portrayed and to give them the tools to rewrite those narratives from their own perspectives.

Alongside critical thinking and media literacy, I’ll also introduce technical skills, including the creative use of AI tools to enhance storytelling. By the end of the program, each participant will have a portfolio of their work to exhibit in a public gallery.

What could have been done differently?

When it came to speaking with the leadership teams at Corporación de los Niños and Casa Tres Patios, I struggled at times because their word choices were different from what I was used to in Mexico. It was hard for me to fully grasp what I was hearing, especially when it came to the slang they used among adults. Because of this, there were moments when I chose to stay silent even if I understood parts of the conversation. I was afraid that the way I spoke wouldn’t be correct, or that what I had previously learned wasn’t good enough.

There were times when they asked me a question, and even though I understood it, I responded with “no entiendo” (I don't understand). I was scared of looking foolish. I realize now that even my body language may have communicated disinterest or hesitation, as if I weren’t eager to be there or engage with Colombian culture.

But looking back, I could have just answered—and if I got it wrong, they would have simply corrected me. There’s no harm in making mistakes, especially when learning a new dialect or way of speaking. That’s how trust and growth happen. I’ve realized that silence, in moments like those, can be misinterpreted. It might have come across as disinterest or detachment.

Next time, I want to lean into the discomfort and remind myself that vulnerability is part of the learning process. By being more open and willing to try, even if imperfectly, I can show that I care.

What did I learn about myself when working with others?

1. I learned how to have genuine conversations with people from less privileged backgrounds while being mindful not to let my words or tone unintentionally reflect my own privilege. Building trust and connection requires creating a space where the exchange feels equal, respectful, and human.
2. I became more aware of the privileges I carry simply by being born in a different country, specifically Canada. I’ve never had to consider gangs or prostitution as the only viable paths in life, and that realization has deepened my empathy and responsibility when engaging with communities where such realities are common.
3. By choosing to work in a city where robbery, theft, and even kidnapping are daily risks for both locals and foreigners, I recognized that I was placing myself in an environment where my own safety was also at stake. This taught me not only courage, but also humility, understanding that social impact work could come with personal vulnerability.
4. I learned to question my own biases and the stories I’ve internalized about others. For example, seeing people on the streets who use drugs not as threats, but as individuals navigating their pain and survival. Many of them don’t want to be feared. They simply want to be acknowledged. Understanding this challenged me to approach others with compassion, not judgment, and reminded me that suffering takes many forms.
5. I will never fully grasp their struggles as migrants, but I can listen and help create opportunities for them to thrive.

What did I learn about leadership?

I’m currently doing research into the history of crime in Colombia and Medellín, particularly through the lens of paramilitaries, gangs, and the lasting impact of Pablo Escobar’s legacy. This research is helping me understand why certain values and attributes are so prominent in the city today, and how dominant ideologies continue to influence daily life--especially when they create precarious situations for children, teens, and adults, who are caught in cycles of intergenerational trauma.

In the context of Venezuelan migrants, these dynamics are particularly important. Many Venezuelans arriving in Medellín are fleeing economic collapse and violence, only to find themselves caught in the remnants of these same cycles—new waves of displacement layered over old conflicts. The hardships they face in integrating into a society marked by its own historical trauma add another layer to the challenge of rebuilding their lives. 

As I move forward, I want to explore how these historical realities intersect with access to education, opportunity, and broader issues of inequality. By grounding myself in both the history and current realities of Medellín, I hope to approach my work with a better sense of cultural sensitivity and a more informed, empathetic perspective—one that acknowledges the complex legacies of the past while highlighting the resilience of those who are actively shaping change today.