Choosing to Belong

Shalaya Valenzuela is rebuilding her body, her belief and her place in her culture, one deliberate choice at a time.

When Canada played France in the quarter-final at the Paris 2024 Olympics, Shalaya Valenzuela ran out with her teammates into the loudest, fullest stadium she had ever seen. Her coach kept the same seven players on the field during the close match, so Valenzuela did not get to play. Still, just being there, wearing her jersey and standing on Olympic turf, was the result of a choice she made months before. That decision was not about talent, but about the kind of teammate she wanted to be.

Just before the pre-Olympic training camp, Valenzuela found out she missed the final Olympic roster by one spot. She could have stepped back to avoid disappointment, but when her coaches invited her to train with the team anyway, she agreed. A week later, they asked her to join them in the Olympic Village, and then to dress for the quarter-final.

“That whole process would have never been possible if I didn’t just stick it out for my team,” Valenzuela said. Looking back, she called it one of the best decisions she has ever made. “It really did change my life.”

Since then, Valenzuela has continued to show up fully, even when she is unsure of the outcome.

Believing She Belonged

Valenzuela, who is Tseshaht, grew up in Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada. She joined the Maple Leaf Rugby Academy three years before the Tokyo Olympic cycle ended. For her first two seasons, she trained in the same building as Canada’s senior national team but never thought she would be part of it.

“I didn’t even think that I would be representing Team Canada or going to the Olympics,” she said. She remembers watching the national players from across the field and quietly accepting that training near them might be the closest she would get. It did not feel like a loss. It was just how her goals looked then, shaped by a childhood where she did not expect to reach the top.

Early in her time at the Academy, Valenzuela finished last in a tough fitness test with timed shuttle runs. Her teammates cheered her on through every set. That small moment stayed with her as a reminder that being part of a team is not just about coming in first.

The invitation that changed her path came by FaceTime, while she was at work. An injury had opened a spot, and her coaches wanted to know if she would join the team in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, and Cape Town, South Africa. She cried at her desk. Her own coach, an Olympic bronze medallist, cried along with her.

Learning to Talk to Herself Differently

In the years that followed, Valenzuela faced challenges that were not about fitness. She played freely and confidently for the University of British Columbia (UBC) Thunderbirds, feeling little pressure and making few mistakes. But on the international stage, surrounded by players she admired, that freedom faded.

“I would play so good at practice and be so confident,” she said. “And then the minute we’d go up onto the world stage, I’d get so nervous.”

A year before Paris, Valenzuela thought the Olympics were still out of reach. Then she had a conversation with her coach that changed her perspective. “The only thing holding you back right now is yourself,” her coach said. “You have to start believing that you belong here.”

In the seasons that followed, selection remained unpredictable. Valenzuela was often called up only when another player was injured, so she rarely felt fully chosen, and the uncertainty started to affect her. When she was not picked for several tournaments in a row, she went back to play for UBC and found her confidence again.

When she got her next chance with Team Canada, she made sure to remember what she had learned. As she ran onto the field, she told herself it was just another university match, with an opponent like any she had faced before. “I had to trick my brain,” she said, “and I told myself that over and over again.”

After that, she played in three of the best tournaments of her career, including scoring an intercept try in a bronze medal final. Her coach later apologized, saying she should have given Valenzuela more belief earlier. For Valenzuela, the lesson was bigger than rugby. “It’s genuinely just how you talk to yourself throughout those hard times,” she said, “and whether you can pull yourself out of something.”

Building a Relationship With Culture, on Her Own Terms

Valenzuela’s father is both Mexican and Indigenous, but she noticed that his Mexican identity was more present in her family. Her mother is Dutch. As a child, Valenzuela rarely talked about her Indigenous identity, not because of a specific choice, but because it was not part of her daily life.

As an adult, that has changed slowly and on purpose. Valenzuela’s grandmother survived residential school, and Valenzuela has seen how that history affected her family over generations. She is open about the fact that she is still learning about her culture, rather than having grown up with it. “I don’t have Elders,” she said. “I’m not in a close relationship with a lot of my Indigenous family who pass on the stories.” Even her great-grandmother rarely spoke about her own experience, a silence Valenzuela understands came from her own pain.

Instead of seeing this as something to apologize for, Valenzuela treats it as ongoing work. She stays connected by visiting her community, keeping in touch with relatives, and especially by mentoring Indigenous youth, many of whom remind her of herself. Some have faced addiction in their families or spent time in foster care, just as she did. Valenzuela sees mentorship as a two-way street. She learns from the kids as much as they learn from her. “I think I can relate to them on a lot of things,” she said. “It would just be, like, I would not be fulfilling my duty being in this position and not embracing who I am. I want the kids to see themselves in me, and know that their situation doesn’t determine what their future looks like.”

That sense of duty took time to arrive. When Valenzuela first heard herself described in the media as the only Indigenous player on Team Canada, her instinct was surprise, then frustration, not with the fact itself but with what it revealed. “I just felt like I shouldn’t be the only Indigenous person on Team Canada,” she said. “There needs to be more Indigenous athletes at this level.”

She has since turned that frustration into a sense of purpose. Being the only one, she said, brings extra responsibility, and she has chosen to face it. That is why she is open about still building her connection to her culture. She wants young people to know that embracing where you come from does not mean you need all the answers right away. You just need to show up. “I need to keep connecting and keep making the effort,” she said, “to surround myself with people to teach me more about my culture.”

This year, Valenzuela showed that effort by traveling with two other Olympians to Haida Gwaii, British Columbia, to teach rugby in remote communities. Some of the kids they met played with old equipment or did not even have a rugby ball. What stood out to Valenzuela was not what her team gave the kids, but what she saw in them: natural athletic ability and a joy in trying something new that she could not forget. “You guys have huge opportunities,” she remembers thinking, “and you just don’t even know it yet.”

A Different Kind of Pride

In October 2025, Valenzuela received the Tom Longboat Award, which is given each year to Canada’s top Indigenous athletes. She says this honour is as important to her as her Olympic experience, but it means something different. While the Olympics recognized her physical training, the Tom Longboat Award honoured her work with community and youth, and it was special to share a name with an athlete she learned about as a child. “It just hit a different heartstring for me,” she said. “I felt pride in a different sense, for my culture, for my people, for my family.”

Getting the Ball Back in Her Hands

About a year ago, Valenzuela had surgery to repair her right ACL, an injury that kept her away from the sport she loves. Her recovery has not been a straight path, but more of a daily challenge, often without a team by her side. Because Canada’s sevens program is spread out across different cities and countries, Valenzuela has done much of her rehab on her own, training with UBC’s Thunderbirds and making occasional trips to Victoria for skills work.

Physically, her knee is doing well. She can run, sprint, and change direction. What takes longer to rebuild, she said, is trust in her body. “It’s never really going to feel exactly the same as it did before,” she said, and accepting that has been one of the hardest parts of recovery. She has learned to stop comparing herself to teammates and instead focus on her own progress over time.

The same mindset that helped her play for Canada is now helping her recover. When she has a rugby ball in her hands, she stops thinking about her knee and just relies on instinct. For her, it is the same lesson in a new way: focus on the present, trust yourself and do not compare.

Valenzuela plans to rejoin UBC’s training camp in August and hopes to return to Team Canada for its first tournament of the season in December. She is also looking ahead to the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics, hoping to experience the Games from start to finish this time.

Asking for Help Is Not a Weakness

Valenzuela is clear about something she wishes she had known earlier: the support she needed, like scholarships and grants, did not just appear. She got those opportunities because she was willing to ask for them and be honest about her reasons. “No one’s gonna know to help you if you don’t open up and say why you need help,” she said.

She thanks a former foster parent who often sent her links to bursaries and applications. She also credits her own willingness to be open in those applications, sharing her background and experiences, as what helped her get new opportunities.

She gives this advice honestly, without making it sound easier than it is. “You would just suffer in silence, and that’s just not how it works,” she said. “You need to lean on a community, and you need to lean on people, and you have to work for it.”

For young Indigenous athletes who are not sure if resources are available or how to ask for them, Valenzuela’s story shows that finding support often comes from being honest and willing to reach out.

What She Wants Young People to Know

When asked what she hopes young readers learn from her story, Valenzuela does not mention medals or titles. Instead, she talks about a change in how she sees herself, and hopes others can find that confidence sooner than she did.

“Your differences are what make you special and what make you you,” she said. Growing up in foster care and seeing other kids go home to their families while she faced her own uncertainty, Valenzuela never thought she would be where she is now. Her message to young people who feel the same way is simple, and it is the one she shares most often. “You do deserve the world,” she said, “and it doesn’t matter where you came from.”

NO ONE’S GONNA KNOW TO HELP YOU IF YOU DON’T OPEN UP AND SAY WHY YOU NEED HELP. ~ Shalaya Valenzuela

Photo credit: Jordan Leigh