Your voice counts – because you belong

Today I met people today from Pakistan, the UK, and many other places who now call this region home. Different backgrounds, shared hopes. Conversations like these remind me why I’m running: to make sure everyone who lives here feels seen, heard, and included – not just in services, but in the decisions that shape our future.

Today I spoke with several people who now call this region home, but whose journeys started elsewhere – in Pakistan, the UK, and beyond. We talked about the ordinary things that shape everyday life: healthcare, children, language, routines. Though our backgrounds differ, we all share the same basic hopes – to feel safe, to be seen, and to belong.

And then came a simple but powerful question: “Can I vote in this election?” On the surface, it’s just a matter of eligibility. But I could hear something deeper behind the words: “Am I part of this? Does my voice count in the place where I now live my life?”

To me, that’s where real politics begins. Not in slogans or strategy documents, but in the quiet and human moments where someone wonders whether they truly belong. Voting isn’t just a legal right. It’s a sign that you are included, that this society is also yours, and that your perspective matters in shaping the common good.

I moved to Finland from Sweden more than a decade ago. My mother is Finnish, my roots are Swedish, and today my home is in Vaasa. I know what it means to learn a new system from the inside. To adjust, adapt, and try to decode the unwritten rules of a new place. I know the feeling of belonging in many ways – but also the quiet moments when you realize you’re still learning where you fit.

That’s why I believe that if we are serious about democracy, we need to go beyond formal rights. We need to build a culture that truly includes everyone who lives here – not only on paper, but in practice. That means providing information in a way people can actually access and understand. It means making space for conversations – not just filling out forms. It means listening before deciding, and making people feel welcome long before we talk about “integration.”

As a candidate for the county elections, and as someone who works in healthcare, I see every day what inclusion – or the lack of it – actually looks like. It’s a patient who doesn’t understand the instructions but is too afraid to ask. It’s a parent who misses out on services because they didn’t get the letter. It’s someone who shows up, year after year, but never feels invited to truly participate.

I represent the Swedish People’s Party, which strongly emphasizes accessibility, multilingualism and equal treatment in public services. But for me, it’s not just a principle in a party platform. It’s something I’ve lived. I believe in building a healthcare system that works for everyone – no matter their language or cultural background. That includes improving interpretation services, increasing cultural awareness among staff, and creating more pathways for newcomers to work and grow within the healthcare sector.

I also believe leadership should be about inclusion, not just representation. People shouldn’t only be spoken for – they should be brought into the room, into the process, into the decisions that affect their lives.

Trust in healthcare isn’t built only through medicine. It’s built through human connection. Through feeling seen, heard, and understood. And that, to me, is what politics should strive for.

Above all, we need to build a society where no one feels like they are “almost included.” Because if you live here, raise your kids here, pay taxes here – then this is your home, too. You belong. And your voice deserves to be heard.

Your vote matters. Because you do.