Faculty of Arts and Humanities

When I told my grandfather I was accepted into my PhD program, he disappeared into the basement and returned with a worn black briefcase. Inside was a letter from Ontario’s Ministry of Education dated 1974. The letter acknowledged that he held a Bachelor of Science in Radio and Electronics Engineering from the Philippines. But it also concluded that his education was equivalent only to Ontario’s now-defunct Grade 13. He kept that letter for more than 50 years. Canada has long relied on highly educated immigrants to build its workforce. Yet many internationally educated professionals, like my grandfather 52 years ago, continue to face barriers to having their qualifications recognized. Research shows that immigrants selected because of their education and skills are often unable to find work that matches their qualifications as foreign credentials continue to be undervalued in the Canadian labour market.  

Filipino migration to Canada

As Canada’s demand for skilled workers grew, the country increasingly recruited internationally educated professionals to fill labour shortages. In 1967, Canada began reshaping its immigration regime through a points-based system, which assessed applicants according to characteristics like education, language ability and work experience. The system also contributed to a significant increase in Filipino migration to Canada and coincided with major political and economic transformations in the Philippines. During the 1970s, the dictatorship of former president Ferdinand Marcos and limited employment opportunities made migration an increasingly attractive and often necessary option for many Filipinos. The Philippine government actively encouraged overseas labour migration. Working abroad became widely understood as the most reliable path to economic security. Migration is not simply an individual decision but part of a broader social and economic system that connects families, labour markets and governments across borders. Shaped by the Philippines’ colonial history and reinforced by government policies, migration became embedded in everyday life. By the 1970s, remittances had become increasingly important to both household livelihoods and the Philippine economy.  

My grandparents’ migration story

My grandfather immigrated in 1973, leaving the Philippines to establish himself before my grandmother joined him. She stayed behind to complete nursing school, knowing that nursing would provide one of the clearest pathways to working abroad. Many of her former classmates had already begun new lives in western countries, and she always expected to eventually leave the Philippines as well. My grandmother spent 32 years working as a registered nurse in Toronto hospitals before retiring. My grandfather trained as an engineer in the Philippines. But after immigrating to Canada, going back to school would have taken too long and been too expensive and uncertain. Instead, he built a nearly 50-year career as an electrician. His employer valued him so much that he continued working beyond retirement age. He is proud of the career he built and, although on leave, tells me he is “still active.”  

Epistemic injustice against migrants

My grandfather’s expertise as an engineer never fully translated into recognition within the Canadian credentialing system. His experience reflects what feminist philosopher Miranda Fricker calls epistemic injustice: the harm that occurs when people are not recognized as credible “knowers” because of unequal systems of power. When Ontario assessed his bachelor’s degree as equivalent to Grade 13, it did more than evaluate his education. It treated the knowledge and expertise he had gained in the Philippines as less valuable than education earned in Canada. Although my grandfather built a successful career as an electrician and earned the respect of his employer and colleagues, that informal recognition never translated into the professional status, authority or earnings that matched his engineering training.  

Migrant deskilling today

My grandfather’s story is not unique. In 2021, recent immigrants were more than twice as likely as young Canadian-born workers to be over-educated for their jobs. Immigrants from Southeast Asia (including the Philippines) had the highest over-education rate at 54.7 per cent. These statistics demonstrate that the challenges my grandfather faced decades ago continue to affect many newcomers today. Anthropologists and archivists argue that the things people hold onto are often a projection of their identity. My grandfather’s briefcase is more than a collection of old documents. It tells the story of the engineer he trained to become, the electrician he became and the life he built in Canada. For many years, he kept his engineering degree on display on his nightstand. Although Canadian institutions did not fully recognize his education, he never stopped recognizing it himself.  

Hopes for a better future

Today, public debates about immigration often focus on numbers and labour shortages, overlooking the lived experiences of the people behind the statistics. My grandfather’s briefcase reminds us that every immigration file belongs to someone who carries qualifications, ambitions and hopes for a better future. As Canada immigration systems welcome newcomers, we should remember that behind every immigration policy are people whose knowledge, experiences and contributions deserve to be recognized. Their stories deserve to be met with dignity, respect and kindness. Kaya M. Anderson, PhD Student in Gender, Sexuality and Women’s Studies and Migration and Ethnic Relations, Western University This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article. Expert Insight reflects the perspective and scholarly interest of Western faculty members and is not an articulation of official university policy on issues being addressed.