For thirteen years, Hanadi Gad lived in a marriage that never supported her growth, a relationship that asked her to shrink herself just to endure.
It is a striking image: a woman, vibrant, educated, and capable, pushed into silence by a life that did not reflect her worth. But if you sit down with Hanadi today, you will quickly realize that she was never defeated. She was the architect of a life waiting to be built.
Today, Hanadi is the first face of the I Am Middlesex campaign, an initiative designed to celebrate the immigrants who are reshaping the cultural and economic fabric of our region. Her story, from a successful career in Kuwait to a shelter in Strathroy, and finally to her own independence, challenges every assumption we make about newcomers. It asks a fundamental question of every resident in Middlesex County: What happens when the person with the least to give decides to host the world
Hanadi’s journey to Middlesex County was not paved with brochures or job offers. It was paved with necessity. After leaving an abusive marriage, she found herself in the shelter system, a reality that is often invisible in our region. While we often associate homelessness with urban centres, rural homelessness in Ontario is frequently hidden, isolating, and disconnected from the dense service networks of big cities.
When the system moved her to Strathroy, she didn't know a soul. She was a single mother separated from her children, living in a shelter, facing the profound isolation that defines rural housing instability. It would have been easy to freeze; to accept the narrative of the "victim."
Instead, Hanadi got to work. "I don't believe in failure," Hanadi says. "I believe that there is some weakness in some days, but this weakness is a message to keep going".
While living in the shelter, she wasn’t content to just survive; she began to serve. She used her bilingual skills to interpret for other women. She connected them with lawyers. She offered advice on how to navigate the Canadian system. In the midst of her own crisis, she became a pillar for others.
Hanadi’s resilience is backed by a fierce work ethic. In her home country, societal norms might have told her that at 52, her time for education was over. "In our countries... I cannot attend the university in this age," she explains. But in Middlesex, she saw an open door.
While navigating the shelter system, she completed a diploma as a Law Clerk and is now enrolled in Police Foundations. She refused to stay in the corner where she had been placed.
Hanadi’s story is proof of the immigrant dividend, the explosion of energy, skill, and entrepreneurial spirit that newcomers bring when they are given a safe harbour.
If you ask Hanadi how she connects with her new neighbours in Middlesex, she won't talk about policy. She will talk about Kushari.
Kushari is Egypt’s national dish, a humble but mighty street food. It is a chaotic, delicious harmony of rice, brown lentils, and macaroni, topped with chickpeas and a tangy, garlicky tomato sauce, all crowned with crispy fried onions. It is "carbs on carbs"; comfort food designed to fill the stomach and warm the heart.
Hanadi believes that welcoming is an art form. When she moved into her own place, she encountered the skepticism that many newcomers face. One neighbour questioned why she shared gifts during Christmas, asking, "Why are you sharing... we don't allow to do that?".
Hanadi’s response was not anger. It was Kushari.
"I create a beautiful dish... and I make two," she recalls. "I give one to my neighbour, which was arguing with me, and the same one for my Canadian neighbour".
The result? The neighbour who had been cold eventually knocked on Hanadi's door, bringing sweets for Ramadan.
"If I am not sharing this meal with my neighbour, why she will come in the next day to knock my door?" Hanadi asks.
Government policies can create housing and jobs, but only people can create belonging. By refusing to return hostility with hostility, Hanadi turned a skeptic into a neighbour. She built a bridge out of lentils and rice.
Hanadi operates on a physics of her own making: she believes that a single act of kindness creates a literal shield around you. It sounds like a metaphor until she tells you about the day at Tim Hortons.
She was waiting in line when the woman in front of her struggled to find change for her coffee. Hanadi stepped in and tapped her card. "Just two dollars," she said. "Have a good day".
Moments later, Hanadi and her daughter walked outside. They stopped for a brief second, a delay caused by that small interaction. Suddenly, a massive pane of glass fell from the building above, crashing onto the sidewalk exactly where they would have been standing.
"The God sent [that man] for us," she says, reflecting on the stranger who paused in front of them. To Hanadi, the equation is simple: "The good things is preventing the bad things".
Whether you call it faith, karma, or luck, the message is clear. Hanadi views community contribution not as a chore but as a survival strategy. When we help others, we save ourselves.
Hanadi Gad is no longer just surviving. She is thriving. She is an advocate for women, urging them to stand on their own feet, learn English, and refuse to be dependent. She is a student, an employee, a mother, and a neighbour.
Her story is the heartbeat of the I Am Middlesex. It challenges us to look at the newcomers in our grocery stores, our schools, and our workplaces and see not just who they are, but everything they are becoming.
The real work is done in the "Art of Welcoming", in the brave decision to share a meal with someone who looks different, or to pay for a stranger's coffee.
Hanadi Gad built a longer table in Middlesex County when she had nothing to put on it but hope. Now, she invites us all to pull up a chair.
"I don't believe in failure. I believe that there is some weakness in some days, but this weakness is a message to keep going."
- Hanadi Gad