VISUAL VOICES 2026
MARCH 2026
Nine youth discovered the power of photography as a tool for self-expression.
Through hands-on guidance and creative exploration, they learned to create compelling portraits that communicated their personal narratives.
The workshop offered a space for self-discovery, helping youth reflect on their identities and perspectives while developing their visual storytelling skills.
Presented by
StepStones for Youth and Golden Child
StepStones support youth involved in the child welfare system. They work to improve educational outcomes, secure stable housing, and build long-lasting support networks. Learn more here.
LORI DESANTIS
She shaped me to be resilient
She shaped me to be strong
She taught me love even when sometimes I didn’t feel love from no one else at times
She taught me everything in life
She taught me how to cook and bake
She taught me responsibility
She taught me to be loving
She taught me to be brave
She taught me to be caring
She taught me to be grateful
She taught me to be respectful
She taught me everything
She is my strength
She is my everything
She is my grandma/stepmom and Nonna
MARY KHALIL
I used to call it living—
the noise, the blur,
the way nights swallowed mornings whole
I don’t remember most of it
just flashes—
a laugh that wasn’t mine
a mirror I avoided
everything was always almost enough
until it wasn’t
until my body started keeping score until silence got louder than the music
so I stopped
not all at once—
more like learning how to stand
after forgetting I had legs
now it’s quieter
and yeah, sometimes it aches
but I can hear myself again
and for the first time that feels like something worth keeping and living for.
FAHAD
I am Fahad from Uganda. When I was 12 years old, I moved to Hong Kong, where I studied and discovered sports.
I joined a running club, trained hard, and started racing.
Running changed me.
It helped me become creative.
It made me an active person and gave me the confidence to talk to people.
Running made me who I am today.
Because of running, I became a leader and a president in school and outside of school.
Running didn’t only change me, it changed my family’s life. It opened doors that helped me make it to Canada.
I joined a private organization that held running training once a week. That opportunity brought hope to everyone and made me believe that one day, I could become a great athlete.
That’s when I realized I was truly a talented runner.
I started competing in races, and now I am proud to be a member of the University of Toronto, training with the team.
I love running.
SHANIA
Quietly sulking in the dark, happiest in my sorrow
My back against the ground, darkness submerges
My eyes fixed on the sky, I see shine
Shiny glitter with stellar mass
Formations of dotted lines
Celestial beings like the soul
Each one telling a story like mine, carrying a weight so powerful
A light was there to guide me
So why did anything else matter? It carries it all
The patterns in the sky spoke meaningfully
So that I can rest, and adhere a beauty that is a reminder
Stories carry power that time holds truthfully
That the light within us is shining somewhere, a star would know
That love is not only magical, but revolutionary
JOHANNA MINGA
Art is a common theme throughout my life.
I fill moments of silence with music. Dozens of playlists fill my ears with melodies that move me and lyrics that touch my soul. I sing along to them passively, the vibrations in my voice soothing me.
I write out words too painful for me to say aloud. Filling notebooks, journals, and the notes app on my phone with poems, diary entries, songs, and stories.
I stare at screens for hours, agonising over the most minute details on Adobe Lightroom and replaying clips over and over again on Premiere Pro until I’m almost sick of the project I’m working on.
It’s everywhere I am. Music playing in my room as I sit back and relax or in my head as I commute through the city, paintings put up on my walls, doodles lining the margins of my school textbooks, and small scars on my hands from attempts at pyrography and sewing accidents.
It helps me feel and process my emotions, remember pleasant memories, and beautify even the ugliest of situations. Creativity is a central part of my character. Throughout my life, it’s always been what connects me to myself. My biggest passion, my favourite hobby, and my first love.
JOEL BHOLA
“I heard that life gets hard when you’re older
And the fun stuffs just for kids
But what I realize as I grow up
Is that it’s just a hit or miss”
In my childhood I took one loss that made
me lose everything, Family, friends, and etc. It was
a big turning point in my life moving from my
long time foster family and friends. I held onto
this one song called Hit Or Miss by Jacob Sartorius.
This is the most nostalgic and comforting thing
I have from my past. It takes me back to
when I was young, youthful, and happy.
AGNES
HOPE
Hope is often described as something so simple, something easy to do; requiring little to no effort.
Little is said of the difficulty of and effort often required to hope, especially after a difficult season. When life has beaten you down time and time again... how simple could learning to hope again be when you’ve been shown time and time again that perhaps Hope has forgotten about you?
I’ve spent most of my life being strong, the kind of strong that got me back up on my feet time after time, the kind of strong that fought battles behind closed doors and walked through life with grace and kindness... until now.
Now standing up feels more like climbing a mountain than just getting up. The strong woman I once knew myself to be seems more like a mirage than a reality. More and more each day, I see a brokenness behind this mirage that I’d held onto for far too long; a brokenness I can’t seem to shake or run from.
It’s terrifying...
PETRIFYING.
Who am I if not strong?
How can I not be strong, when all I’ve ever known and all that life has shaped me into is STRONG.
Weakness is death, where the jaws of life wait to devour me whole.
Hope is hard, especially when all I’ve known and the essence of who I once knew myself to be has been completely stripped away.
HOPE... in GOD.
Is like a rainbow that comes forth from its hidden place after a storm has passed. Where it shines a multitude of deeply beautiful and breathtaking shades of colour, reminding me that beauty can still shine forth even after the harshest and most violent of storms.
A reminder and promise that although storms come and cause destruction, they will not completely consume me, and as long as that rainbow remains, I will always have a hope; although the destruction and pain left behind won’t disappear overnight, I still have something so beautiful and breathtaking waiting for me at the end of the road.
So, hope isn’t for me to carry or a tool to help me find answers, but it can be a place where I find rest and a place I can find encouragement to live again.
DEBRA AMBROSE
i stayed put where it was easy,
tarnished edges, familiar noises, all the “friendly” faces.
the internal storm that never stopped.
i called it peace
believing i needed it to breathe, to survive but never to live.
it was just comfort,
wearing a kinder name.
i willingly complied in every corner of those places, every excuse, every delay.
how to stay without ever growing
but the light always shines again.
somewhere in the midst of all that
i learnt to step back, to loosen my grip, to let go of all of what i thought i could control.
i found a place where i was comfortable,
that didn’t leave my heart so heavy, or my mind so destructive.
not in the noise or the feeling of escape
but within myself, the peace.
the longer i stayed comfortable, the longer i stood stuck.
TRISTAN ANDREWS
The Sentry
In a maze made of concrete where logic is key,
Dwelt a weaver of wool, as composed as can be.
A Sentry who stands where the intersections meet,
To study the patterns of the bustling street.
He sees that the rhythm has shifted of late,
A jagged momentum, a hurried-up gait.
Do not think him bitter or weary or low,
For his spirit is bright with a mellowing glow.
He greets every sunrise with gratitude’s grace,
Hoping simply for home in a well-settled place.
In a city of noise where the signals are blurred,
The Sentry navigates trenches for every small word.
Through concrete and chaos where pedestrians flow,
A pillar for those with no compass to show.
Though the burden is heavy, the mission is right,
He’s harnessed the grind to embolden his flight.
He doesn’t want pity, he doesn’t want praise,
He just wants the "Daily Quest" filling his days.
The Sentry looks onward to paths yet unknown,
Toward a tropical isle where the palm trees are grown.
To build a new lighthouse for spirits in need,
A harvest of honor from a disciplined seed.
The Sentry looks onward, released from the weight,
Deciphering gains at a prosperous rate.
With Wisdom as armor and Courage as guide,
The Sentry moves forward where the horizons align.