THE UNSAID

As a media house owned and operated by Caribbean women, we at the Toronto Caribbean Newspaper know what it’s like to carry stories that have never found a place in the public record. We carry the weight of the “Unsaid” the silent triumphs, the hidden burdens, and the raw truths that stay tucked away behind polished smiles.

We are launching this International Women’s Month campaign because we want to give our sisters the space to finally set those burdens down. This isn’t a request for a polished article, or a curated feature story. This is a call for your raw, unfiltered thoughts.

We want you to talk your talk, unapologetically. No filters. No judgment. Just your voice, exactly as it sounds in your heart. Whether it is a whisper of pain or a roar of defiance, your truth belongs in the paper and across our digital platforms. We are here to amplify the feelings that society often asks us to keep quiet.

Each week, we will reach out to a selected group of women of impact to hear their rawness and share their truth with the community. In today’s edition, you will meet our first collective, women who speak from the heart, who relate to your pains, and who are here to remind you that you are never alone in this world.

Don’t forget Toronto Caribbean Newspaper is in stores TODAY, where you will find more stories from women living their unsaid truths!

Let’s make this month unforgettable. Let’s make it real.

Che Marville | Founder | Coach | Speaker | Media Creator | CEO, Wisemindly Inc. & Media | Full piece can be found on Che Marville’s LinkedIn Page

We often talk about the barriers to entering leadership. We talk far less about what happens once you are inside those rooms. Influence is not only about attaining a position, but it is also about protecting it. That reality shapes who gets rewarded, who gets excluded and who is expected to remain silent.

I began working as a teenager and have spent more than three decades across industries, technology, media, wellness, education and politics. I spent years inside political life before stepping away a decade ago. Not because I lost, but because I came to understand the deeper cost public leadership can demand: the strain on family life, the exposure to hostility and the risks people rarely acknowledge when they celebrate participation.

That reality shapes who gets rewarded, who gets excluded and who is expected to remain silent.

Along the way, I heard versions of the same message many women recognize:

“You don’t fit here.”

“Why do you change your hair so?”

“Can’t you get a nanny?”

“You seem very young.”

“You’re very articulate.”

“Don’t speak in meetings. I speak.”

Occasionally, the message was more direct.

“Do you know who I am? I can make it very difficult for you to get hired in this industry.”

Sometimes the boundary was sexual.

“Why don’t you come up to my room, and we can discuss the proposal there?”

These comments came from people across industries and decades. Some were casual. Some thoughtless. Some deliberate.

Taken together, they reveal something deeper.

They reveal what I think of as the hidden anatomy of work, the informal signals, expectations and pressures that shape careers but rarely appear in job descriptions, leadership manuals or official data.

Most people learn this anatomy slowly, through experience. It is rarely written down, but it shapes how power moves inside institutions, how opportunity is distributed, and how people learn to navigate rooms that were not designed with them in mind.

Over time, it also shapes something quieter: where you believe you belong, the size of your fear, and how far you allow yourself to grow, and that matters more than we often realize.

Anandie Talfie | Regional Retail Sales & Operations Manager at Andrew Peller Limited | Inclusion Council Member | Advocate of Mental Wellness, DEI&B and the Celebration of Women in the Workplace and Beyond…

They call us strong women like it’s a compliment, especially Caribbean women. We grow up watching our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers carry whole families on their backs. They worked, nurtured, stretched every dollar, and somehow made it look normal.

Strength isn’t just about carrying everything.

So, we learned early the expectation to be strong, but strength has a breaking point. Sometimes you realize you are one dish, one sweep, one more meal away from a meltdown, and that’s when it hits you… strength isn’t just about carrying everything.

Sometimes strength is setting boundaries. Saying no when it needs to be said. Taking time for yourself without feeling guilty. Taking the time to breathe, reset, recharge, because the truth is this; when you are a strong woman, you don’t always know how to be any other way. It was the way you were taught. What you saw, breathed, and lived every day.

The unsaid truth is this; strong women get tired too, and we deserve space to put some of that weight down, even if only for a brief moment. Maybe strength, sometimes, is allowing ourselves to do just that.

Chef Megz | Chef | Culinary Graduate | Foodie & Occasionally Filming food | Founder of: blackofthehouseinc

One of the most exhausting things about being a Black woman in professional kitchens is the constant awareness of how you are being perceived. The code switching. The policing of tone, expression, and body language, all so other people can feel comfortable. It is emotionally draining in a way that people rarely see.

People often assume that being a woman might make things easier in the industry now, but being a Black woman often makes it the opposite. Egos become fragile and envy shows up in quiet ways. Somehow you are expected to navigate all of that while still performing at the highest level.

Another thing people get wrong is assuming that I am the spokesperson for Blackness. I am not. Companies should be doing their own work by mandating diversity, equity, and inclusion training and creating spaces where people are educated instead of relying on the only Black woman in the room to carry that weight.

We deserve more. More pay, more protection, and stronger standards.

What pushed me to start speaking about mental health was realizing how exhausted I had become and how common that exhaustion was around me. Depression, anxiety, substance abuse, and irritability are everywhere in kitchens, but we rarely say it out loud.

If I could say anything to the industry without consequences, it would be this. We deserve more. More pay, more protection, and stronger standards. There should be more unions, like every other skilled trade.

Right now, I am navigating a shift from the back of the house into the psychology and mental health side of culinary through food media. The truth is that I am an incredibly sensitive and empathetic person. I feel energy deeply. Being in this industry while carrying that level of awareness is not easy.

I also believe I am part of a generation of women breaking cycles. Speaking up takes practice, but it is always worth it.