August 11th, 2026
Today was a challenging day. I had one of the first experiences I can remember where I became completely overwhelmed and could not contain my emotions. Looking back, the day was a combination of beautiful experiences, fear, physical pain, overstimulation, and ultimately, an important lesson about allowing myself to be vulnerable.
The day started early as we headed to Khalsa College in Amritsar. When we arrived, we did what has become somewhat routine on this trip: sitting in a principal’s office, being stared at, and being offered delicious food. This is something I am not used to in Canadian culture. In Canada, I associate being called to the principal’s office with being in trouble, so it still feels strange to me to sit in one as a guest. At the same time, I have come to understand that being offered food and being welcomed into someone’s office is often an expression of hospitality here. I am also not the most comfortable person with silence, so sitting quietly while people look at us can sometimes feel awkward.
We then facilitated our final Consent Café. It was bittersweet to know that this was our last one. I was sad that this part of the experience was coming to an end, but I also felt relieved that the hard work was finished. I know I will have a lot more to reflect on about Consent Café and what I learned from it, so I want to save that reflection for another journal entry.
After the Consent Café, we went into another principal’s office, where Ally, Olivia, and I had a really interesting conversation with one of the professors about alcohol, modesty, and what it means to be a woman in India. She explained that she is a professor until 4 p.m., and after that, she feels like she deserves to “let loose,” or, in her words, “be savage,” and just be a human being. She talked openly about drinking alcohol and spending time with her friends. I found this surprising because it challenged some of my assumptions about Indian culture.
This conversation was a reality check for me. I realized that I had been generalizing people and expecting them to behave a certain way because of the culture I had observed. However, culture does not define an entire person. People are individuals with their own beliefs, values, personalities, and ways of living. This experience reminded me that I need to continue challenging my own assumptions rather than allowing my limited understanding of a culture to become a stereotype.
It was during this conversation that the more difficult part of my day began.
I experience migraines, and only once before had I experienced an aura. While we were sitting in the office, I suddenly noticed that my vision in one eye was becoming distorted and starting to black out. It was terrifying. I was trying to understand what was happening while simultaneously wondering whether something was seriously wrong with my vision. Thankfully, I was surrounded by people who noticed that I was struggling and helped me get water and take my migraine medication.
The medication helped, but it did not make everything disappear. My head continued to hurt, I was slurring my words, and I felt confused and disoriented. Despite this, part of me wanted to continue pushing through. I kept thinking, I’m only in India once, so I need to experience everything I possibly can. Looking back, I recognize how stubborn I was being with myself. I was prioritizing making the most of the experience over listening to what my body was telling me.
After sitting through a few more meetings, we got on the bus in the pouring rain and decided to go to the Golden Temple. Visiting the Golden Temple was something I had really advocated for because I wanted to experience it so badly. I convinced myself that I could still enjoy it despite the pain. On the bus, I sat in the back with my head covered, lying down with cold patches on my head and neck. At the time, I felt almost dramatic for needing to do those things, but they were the only things I could think of that might help me feel better.
When we arrived, the rain had stopped. My head still hurt, but I was determined to go inside.
And then I saw the Golden Temple.
I was completely in awe. It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. The gold reflecting off the water, the marble surrounding the temple, the clear water, and the buildings surrounding it created an atmosphere that felt majestic, peaceful, and almost surreal. There was a sense of spirituality and calmness that I could feel even while I was physically struggling. I could have sat there and looked at it for hours.
We began taking pictures, and after I had finished taking mine, everything suddenly changed. Guards approached us carrying spears and began yelling in Punjabi. Sabreet was arguing with them, and they were telling Ally to delete something from her phone. I had no idea what was being said, but I could tell that the situation was serious. Brittany and Chelsea were eventually being told to leave, and suddenly everything felt chaotic and frightening.
This was one of the first times I felt like I was experiencing discrimination because of the colour of my skin. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. I remember thinking that I wanted to cover my face and my hands. I wanted to disappear and blend in, but that was not really an option for us. We stood out.
Despite that, I did not want this experience to ruin the Golden Temple for me. Most of our team had to leave, but Ally, Olivia, Sabreet, and I continued walking around. We were still followed by guards, which made me uncomfortable, but we were also able to experience some really meaningful moments. We donated money, made a wish, and learned more about Sabreet’s relationship with her religion. We also entered another temple where we learned how to properly pray and make a wish. Those moments were incredibly special, and I know I will remember them for the rest of my life.
One thing I found particularly interesting was seeing men bathing in the water while women had separate spaces where they could do the same. I understand that there can be cultural and religious reasons surrounding modesty, but it also made me question the way women’s bodies are treated. Why does women’s skin have to be sexualized? Why is the responsibility placed on women to cover themselves rather than on everyone to respect other people’s bodies? It made me think about how often women are taught that their bodies are something that need to be managed, protected, or hidden because of how others might perceive them.
My experience at the Golden Temple was complicated. It was beautiful and spiritual, but it was also frightening and uncomfortable. Somehow, all of those feelings can exist at the same time. I think that is what made the experience so memorable. I will remember the Golden Temple for both the beauty I saw and the difficult moments I experienced there, and I would not trade the experience for anything.
After leaving the temple, we met up with the rest of the team. We got our shoes and some water, and I immediately realized how physically exhausted I was. It was incredibly hot, I was drenched in sweat, my head still hurt, and I was feeling nauseous. Once we left the temple, all of those feelings seemed to catch up with me at once.
All I wanted was to get back to the van and lie down.
But being part of a group means that I am not the only voice. I have to respect the decisions of the group while also learning how to advocate for myself. When we started walking, some people wanted to shop. At that point, I was already completely overstimulated and in pain. I tried to keep going, but eventually I broke down in tears.
At first, I tried to hide it because I was embarrassed. I did not know how to explain what was happening in my head, and I did not want anyone to think that I was not okay. I took deep breaths and tried to stand away from everyone so I could regulate myself. Eventually, though, that stopped working. I just needed to cry.
Crying in front of a group of people is something I do not think I have ever done before. What made it even more overwhelming was that I did not fully understand why I was crying. I was in pain, exhausted, overstimulated, scared, and emotionally overwhelmed, and I think all of those things finally caught up with me.
There were also people around us staring at me, asking me to come into their stores, and asking me to take pictures. All I wanted was to get back to the bus.
Olivia eventually asked me if I was okay. I automatically said yes. She then asked me if I was lying, and I admitted that I was.
That moment really stuck with me.
I realized how automatic it is for me to say that I am fine even when I am not. I often try to overcompensate when I am struggling by putting on a performance that I am completely okay. I become louder, happier, or more energetic because I want everyone else to believe that nothing is wrong. I think part of me believes that if I can convince everyone else that I am fine, then maybe I can convince myself too.
When we finally made it back to the bus, I felt like I could breathe again. I also felt incredibly vulnerable. Part of me wanted to disappear and be alone, but I could not. I was still surrounded by people. At the same time, something unexpected happened: people cared.
No one stopped loving me because I cried.
No one thought I was weak because I became overwhelmed.
Instead, people tried to support me.
I think that is probably the most important thing I learned today.
I do not always have to be okay. I do not always have to push through. I do not have to prove that I am strong by ignoring what my body and mind are telling me. Being vulnerable does not make me a burden, and needing support does not make me weak.
Today was beautiful, scary, painful, overwhelming, and meaningful all at once. It was one of the hardest days I have had on this trip, but it was also one of the days that taught me the most about myself. I learned that I can experience something incredible while also having a difficult experience. I learned that my assumptions about culture can be challenged. I learned that I need to listen to my body instead of always pushing through. Most importantly, I learned that people can still love and care for me when I am not okay.
And maybe I do not always have to put on a show to prove that I am fine. Sometimes, I can just be the person who needs to cry.