Meet Me

A simple woman who turned her story into a sanctuary.

Dalia Altom 
 Welcome to CAS—a space for African Canadian women to be seen, heard, and held.

I’ve worn many titles in my life: engineer, entrepreneur, mother, immigrant, and survivor.
But the one that feels most true? Builder of beginnings.

I was born in Sudan, and my journey took root in Saudi Arabia, where I spent my childhood in the stillness of closed doors and silenced dreams. My father worked in another city, my mother raised us alone, and I learned early how to navigate loneliness. We moved often—city to city, friend to friend, never long enough to belong.

By sixteen, I was back in Sudan, chasing education like oxygen. I juggled two university degrees while never quite finding a place to call my own. I married young. I chose love. And I walked through a life that taught me the difference between choosing someone and being chosen back. I fought for my freedom, for my daughter, and for my name. I stood alone in court to earn a divorce in a culture that punished women for speaking.

I raised my daughter as a single mother. I built a company from scratch. I turned zero into $250,000 in four years—not from luck, but from grit and grit only. I cared for my aging parents while healing from my own wounds. I was the one my entire family turned to when they fell apart, and I helped piece them back together while quietly falling apart myself.

Then war came.

I lost everything I had built—my business, my home, my savings, my mother and father—all swallowed by conflict and chaos. I came to Canada, not as a victim, but as a woman with a suitcase full of pain, purpose, and potential. I started over again. I studied English. I earned advanced diplomas in business marketing. I learned AI and new systems I took 60 classes to advance my education and sharpen my social and professional skills. I pursued the Canadian Marketing Association (CMA). And I kept applying for jobs that never called back—not because I lacked value, but because the world lacked imagination.

So I dreamed bigger.

I created  CAS because I knew there were thousands of women like me—brilliant, displaced, silenced, and overlooked. I built the space I once needed. A place where African Canadian women could be seen, supported, and celebrated. Where we don't have to shrink to survive—we can rise, rebuild, and redefine success on our own terms.

This is more than my story. It’s a blueprint.

And it’s just the beginning.