Wajiha Siddiqui
Wajiha Siddiqui
TRC Candidate
Program: Software Development and Network Engineering
“When I became a peer mentor at Sheridan in August 2023, it was more than just another campus role for me—it was deeply personal. As an international student, I vividly remember the overwhelming feeling of landing in a new country, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and customs. Those first few months were a real struggle as I tried to build connections while adjusting to a completely different academic environment.
That's exactly why I'm so passionate about the work I do now. During orientation weeks, I make a point to seek out those students who seem hesitant or alone, remembering how I felt in their shoes. The movie nights I've helped organize have become a space where students can relax and form friendships in a lowpressure setting.
The most fulfilling moments come when I see a student who once barely spoke begin to open up and engage with others. There's this transformation that happens—from uncertainty to confidence—and being even a small part of that journey is incredibly rewarding.
I've volunteered for various campus initiatives because I believe creating a sense of belonging happens both inside and outside the classroom. My goal has always been straightforward: ensure no student feels the isolation I once did. When I connect with another international student and can say "I understand, I've been there too," I see the relief in their eyes, and I know this work matters.”
What are some of the student issues that you would like to bring to the Board table?
✔ Cultural Representation and Inclusion
✔ Financial Support: Scholarships, Bursaries and Awards
✔ Health and Wellness
Write about one of the current student issues you selected above. share why advocating for this issue is important to you:
“When I first arrived at Sheridan, the excitement of studying abroad quickly collided with an unexpected reality. Despite the smiles and orientation activities, I felt invisible in many ways. My name was consistently mispronounced, my cultural references went unrecognized, and finding halal food that brought me comfort was nearly impossible. These weren't just inconveniences—they were daily reminders that I existed in a space not designed with people like me in mind.
I still remember my first Eid al-Fitr away from home. After a month of fasting during Ramadan, Eid had always been a celebration filled with family gatherings, special prayers, delicious food, and the exchange of gifts. That morning, I woke up in my dorm room and immediately felt the hollow absence of my family's energy and excitement. There were no new clothes laid out, no aroma of my mother's special biryani filling the house and no younger cousins rushing in to collect their Eidi.
Campus life continued as usual that day while I scrolled through photos of celebrations back home in Pakistan. I saw my parents and siblings dressed in their finest clothes, neighbors visiting each other's homes, and streets decorated with lights. Meanwhile, I attended classes where no one knew it was one of the most significant days of my year. Not because I expected everyone to celebrate my holiday, but because there wasn't even acknowledgment that this sacred day existed for many students.
This experience transformed me. What began as personal loneliness evolved into a realization that cultural representation isn't just about comfort—it's about dignity and belonging. When curriculum examples only feature Western perspectives, when campus events overlook diverse religious and cultural observances like Eid, when Muslim students' needs for prayer spaces or accommodations during Ramadan are treated as afterthoughts—these gaps send powerful messages about whose experiences matter.
The turning point came when I connected with other Muslim international students facing similar struggles. One friend shared how she'd stopped wearing her hijab because of the stares and questions it attracted. Another described scheduling conflicts between important exams and Eid prayers with no options for accommodation. These compromises might seem small to others, but they represent pieces of identity being quietly surrendered to fit in.
That's why advocacy for cultural representation has become so vital to me. I've experienced firsthand how isolating it feels when your background becomes either invisible or exotic entertainment, rather than a respected part of campus diversity. True inclusion isn't achieved through token international food days or occasional cultural performances. It requires systemic changes—diverse faculty who understand different religious observances, curriculum that incorporates global perspectives, policies that recognize the uni.”