People ask me how I ended up doing what I do: building communities, writing stories, connecting dots in the Vancouver tech world. They assume there was a grand plan or ambition or charisma. But the truth is simpler: I’m curious about people.

It started in Winchester, the small Ontario town where I grew up. I was one of three Black kids in the whole place, raised by a white mom. Everyone knew who I was, so I couldn’t exactly hide. But something else happened: I learned to walk into any room and talk to anyone. Grocery store, hockey game, school event—it didn’t matter.

I learned early that everyone knows something you don’t know. And if you lead with curiosity, people open up.

That same instinct guided me at Carleton University. I wasn’t in the journalism program, but I found my way into the student newspaper office and asked, “Can I learn how to do this?” That conversation turned into assignments, editing work, and a boot camp in storytelling.

Curiosity has taken me farther than formal credentials ever did. It’s why I can walk into a room of founders, students, or executives and feel comfortable striking up a conversation. It’s why I still love interviewing people, hosting events, and writing about what others are building.

Here’s advice I find myself sharing with people who are out in the world trying to meet new people:

If you’re in a room, you belong in the room. Someone invited you or you had the courage to show up. That’s enough.

Curiosity doesn’t guarantee success, but it guarantees movement—conversations, connections, and opportunities you couldn’t have predicted.

Curiosity is a strategy. It’s just disguised as kindness.