Steve Greenaway

(1/2) My heart is so incredibly full today. I had the privilege of visiting Skeena Middle School ahead of their upcoming student vote, and I am still struggling to find the words to describe just how much this experience meant to me. The turnout was incredible, the questions were thoughtful and insightful, and the enthusiasm these students showed was genuinely inspiring. But what happened afterwards is what I will carry with me for the rest of my life. So many came up to speak with me, share their thoughts, and hand me little notes and drawings. I’ve included a photo of just a few of them, including a beautiful portrait one young girl drew of me. I am absolutely blown away by her artistic talent. And then there were the conversations. Several young girls pulled me aside to tell me that they looked up to me, saw themselves reflected in me, or wanted to be like me when they grew up. I cannot begin to express what those words meant to me. Some of the conversations genuinely moved me to tears. When I first entered politics at 21 years old, I didn’t look or sound like what most people expected a politician to be. I was young, tattooed, outspoken, and didn’t come from a traditional political background. I had lived through challenges that many people would have assumed disqualified me from ever holding public office. But I refused to believe that my past, appearance, age, or anyone else’s expectations should determine what I was capable of accomplishing. One of the reasons I have been so determined to do this work is because I wanted other young people, other women and girls, and other people who have never quite fit the mould to know that there is a place for them in this world. Their voices deserve to be heard. Their experiences have value. That they don’t need to change who they are to make a difference. Sometimes you have to fight your way into the room. Demand a seat at the table when nobody is willing to offer you one. Stand alone, speak up when it’s uncomfortable, and refuse to back down when people tell you that you don’t belong. But it matters that you do. Because the world needs more people who are willing to challenge expectations, stand up for what they believe in, and make room for those who come after them. My life motto has always been, “If not me, who?” And I continue to live by those words. I will always fight for the underdog. For the person who feels overlooked, unheard, or underestimated. For the people who need someone in their corner. I know I won’t win every battle, and I won’t always get everything right, but I will never stop trying. Today was a sobering and deeply emotional reminder of why that matters. Because these young people are our future leaders. They’re the next generation of advocates, artists, entrepreneurs, community builders, and elected representatives. They have incredible potential, and they deserve every opportunity to realize it. And if even one young girl looks at me and realizes that she doesn’t have to fit somebody else’s definition of what a leader should look like, then I know that at least some of what I’ve fought so hard for has made a difference. To every single student who took the time to speak with me, ask a question, share a drawing, or offer a kind word today: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how much I needed those words today, or how much they meant to me. You reminded me why I started this journey in the first place, and why, even on the hardest days, this work is worth doing. I am so incredibly proud to know that I’ve been able to make even a small difference in some of your lives. But I hope you know that today, you made an enormous difference in mine. And to the teachers and staff, thank you for creating opportunities for these young people to engage with democracy, ask difficult questions, and recognize the power of their own voices.