Sunday Editorial – Irum Khan
It was two days after Rod Loyola was dropped from the Liberal Party in the federal race—over a 16-year-old rap video—that I visited his campaign office.I met him outside, attempting to replace the sign atop the office that still read “Liberal” with one that simply read “Rod Loyola.” A woman with a reassuring Punjabi accent from the Sikh community was helping him. As I began talking to her, she shared her story—her struggles with her ex-husband, and how “Rod had stepped in to help her out” when his rival Tim Uppal refused to even look at her file.
Inside the office were Rod’s wife, Tamara, and his mother, preparing lawn signs for the campaign. His mother gently handed me a cloth wipe, warning that using bare hands to stick labels would lead to pain later that night. I couldn’t quite grasp this level of care coming from a politician’s family.
With only 28 days left, the Liberals’ decision to drop Loyola felt like pushing someone off a cliff. But Loyola had taken that push with grace. Not an ounce of fear or regret appeared on his face. His resilience was, in itself, a lesson for future politicians in navigating the ups and downs of politics.
In fact, he had taken charge of the campaign and put it back on track—something that became a source of curiosity for me, especially given the far-reaching support he had been receiving.
I met countless women who volunteered in various capacities at his campaign office. Some wore the niqab—something Tim Uppal had once fiercely opposed while undertaking of the citizenship vote. These women were at the forefront of door-knocking, humbly persuading people to vote for Loyola.
During my return visits, I met even more women, senior citizens, and men, all speaking with similar zeal about Loyola’s impact on their lives. One immigrant woman from South America, who also had Indigenous roots, passionately explained why Loyola needed to win—because of his deep-rooted connection to the community, in contrast to Uppal’s consistent absence from the constituency. Another woman from Kyrgyzstan joked, “We volunteer for Rod because he’s handsome.”
As the campaign neared its end, the number of volunteers kept increasing. Yet, they couldn’t compete with the funds and backing that mainstream parties like the Conservatives and Liberals provided to their candidates. Loyola ended up in fourth place with over 2,000 votes. A volunteer, whose family had been campaigning for Loyola from the beginning of the capaign, remarked, “These are your votes, Rod—just yours. Let’s double them next time.”
In Alberta, where voters are accustomed to choosing between Liberals and Conservatives, helping them understand what an independent candidate could bring to the table was a formidable endeavor—one that Loyola’s team was earnestly trying to accomplish. Twenty-eight days weren’t enough. Still, in this fight between red and blue, there was this candidate who dared to stand for the principles he believed in.
As I left his campaign office, I saw the same woman I had met earlier. She had finally managed to position the “Rod Loyola” sign high enough to completely cover the Liberal board.
“You placed it very high this time,” I remarked.
