Know Her Stories

"Getting involved in this role was inspired by community members and the desire to take on a challenge where I’d be refocusing an organization to be the national youth-led 2SLGBTQ organization many young queer and trans people need."  We talked to Debbie Owusu-Akyeeah about her work as an Executive Director with the Canadian Centre for Gender & Sexual Diversity (CCGSD), some key moments in her childhood and adolescence that led her down this path of advocacy and activism, her time as a rugby player, and her earring-making hobby during the pandemic.   Has this kind of advocacy and activism work always been something you envisioned yourself doing? Yes. Recently, I was sitting on a panel for Carleton university (where I did both my undergrad and my masters) and the panel was on alternative careers outside of academia. I told them the reason I moved to Ottawa at 18 years old was to get into a career where I was involved in advocacy and activism. Both from a public policy approach (like foreign affairs) but also feminist activism. I knew I needed to be in close proximity to where those decisions were happening. So that kind of inspired my academic journey and career trajectory. I moved here from the Toronto area so, it was a bit of a sacrifice (laughs) for the better of what I want to do. I’ve always been that teenage feminist. I was pretty outspoken in undergrad. I pushed where I could in a Catholic school in Brampton, Ontario. I think my rugby coaches and my teachers knew I’d probably be at the forefront of future protests. And they weren’t wrong. It’s always something I thought I’d be doing and it’s something I’m happy to be involved in now.  Were there any moments in childhood or adolescence that you look back on now as indications you’d be well-suited to this kind of work? I developed really early. I got my period in grade 4, and I knew what had happened, but my mom’s immediate reaction was “Don’t tell anyone.” So I felt that periods were a shameful thing, and this was the complete opposite experience of my best friend at the time who grew up in a single-parent home and was the child of a feminist lesbian Latina woman from El Salvador. My friend’s first period was celebrated. She got roses and Oreo cookies. I’ll never forget that. It was such a stark contrast between her household and mine. I remember confronting my mom about (her reaction to my first period) after my first year of university and she was like, “I was just afraid that if you told people that they would harm you.” This was a reflection of how she grew up in western Africa where those moments—those physical changes in your body—are supposed to signify a coming of age and it meant something completely different. I look back on that time and it’s no surprise I ended up working at the women’s center during my undergrad, hosting feminist consciousness-raising groups and talks with people about alternative mentrual products to use. So if there was one moment that I think really marks that change for me, it was that. "I knew what feminist leadership should look like—having been fortunate enough to work in organizations that had really good feminist leadership."   What about in terms of protesting? Did you have any moments related to that growing up? I went to a Catholic school in Brampton where they made us wear uniforms. I think we were in grade 10 or 11. With this Catholic school once a month they had dress-down days—you could come to school and wear whatever you wanted. And Halloween, my favourite holiday, happened to land on the Friday we had dress-down day. The administration felt it would be appropriate to ban us from wearing halloween costumes because they were afraid of how rowdy we’d get. So I actually helped lead a protest with a bunch highschool students where we came into school wearing our Halloween costumes. I remember I was dressed as a vampire. I had contacts, fangs, and long nails. I’ll never forget it. It was almost like a badge of honour to be kicked out of class. We got CP24 (a local news network) to come in and interview students about it. I got kicked out of class because I pushed against what I felt was a foolish idea. After that, I think a lot of people were like, “Ok, this girl’s going to be doing something. Speaking truth to power, or engaging in some kind of civil disobedience.”  Could you tell me about how you got involved with the Canadian Center for Gender and Sexual Diversity? What kind of work do you do on a daily basis? I saw the job posting and had a conversation with my partner about it. She was really encouraging. I know what this organization has meant to people I share community with, and people I consider friends here in Ottawa. I thought, “This organization is going to require someone who can really bring it forward.” I applied not knowing what was going to come of it, but it happened. I became an Executive Director at 28 years old, and it was an opportunity for me to package skills I’ve learned—from school where I was studying foreign policy, to my undergrad in women’s studies, to my political activism and my community care work. That experience helped me bring thoughtful leadership into this role. Getting involved in this role was inspired by community members and the desire to take on a challenge where I’d be refocusing an organization to be the national youth-led 2SLGBTQ organization many young queer and trans people need.  My day-to-day work is focussed on organizational change. Everything I do—whether it’s finance related, fundraising, day-to-day management with staff, being the spokesperson for the organization—all of it is centred on organizational change. This organization had the same leader for the last fifteen years before I came in. So I knew I was coming in with a very different set of expectations and understandings, and I knew what feminist leadership should look like—having been fortunate enough to work in organizations that had really good feminist leadership.  "A lot of queer folks have been using the term possibility model—a model of what is possible for you." Intersectional feminism is one of the guiding principles of the CCGSD. Can you talk about the importance of intersectional feminism in your own life and why it’s so important to the CCGSD? Whenever I have a conversation about intersectional feminism I have to remind people that intersectionality is a framework, and the term was coined by Black women and Black feminists. Historically, intersectionality was centred on naming the experiences of Black women who were navigating sexism, racism, and sometimes classism at the same time. As a framework, intersectionality is liberating for me because it allows me to analyse how the rest of the world impacts me—the vulnerabilities it might put me in—that might be different from a white woman, for example. As someone navigating homophobia, racism, sexism, and classism at the same time, I’ve had to think about decisions I’ve made differently and intersectionality allowed me to name that experience.  When it comes to our work at CCGSD, I like to say, oppression doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Homophobia is happening at the same time as Islamophobia and colonialism. In our work it would be a disservice to only name homophobia and transphobia while ignoring other different ways in which oppression impacts other 2SLGBTQ communities. The homophobia I’m going to experience is very much shouldered in being a Black person. I’ve heard things like, “Black people are more homophobic than anyone else.” If you apply an intersectional lens to a statement like that you end up finding out how convenient it is for white supremacy to talk about our people this way, and to position itself as inherently progressive. It was white supremacist colonialism that introduced very homophobic laws that are archaic and still practiced even in my own country. You have to name the different ways that oppression operates even in the 2SLGBTQ community; if you don’t, you risk further isolating community members who aren’t the more mainstream white, cisgender, gay, queer man.  You were a very accomplished rugby player in university. Did playing that tough sport prepare you in any unexpected ways for the work you do now? Yes. If you speak to any person in women’s rugby (highschool, club, university etc.) they’ll all talk about how rugby is such an empowering sport in terms of how different body types are able to find a space (in the different positions). In other sports sometimes it doesn’t really translate the same way. I think for people who are socialized to not be rough, or to be ladylike, there is a joy that a rough sport like rugby can bring out for folks that is beautiful. I’ve made so many awesome connections and lifelong friendships because of this sport. It’s also made me a better leader. My first leadership opportunities were through rugby. I was the captain of the rugby team in high school. It taught me what it was like to represent a group of people, to be the person who is at the forefront of making sure collaboration is happening, and being the person who is cheerleading. I bring that same skillset with me today as someone who is leading an organization. I have to ensure we’re all on the same page, respect all the different skill sets we have, and cheer us on when we’re exhausted or going through a really rough time. Rugby has definitely helped me grow more confident, be a better leader, and be a better feminist.  "Rugby has definitely helped me grow more confident, be a better leader, and be a better feminist."  Who are some of your role models? A lot of queer folks have been using the term possibility model—a model of what is possible for you. Laverne Cox talks about possibility models a lot specifically for young trans folks. For me, it’s important to find other Black women, but also women who are specifically from Ghana. Women who understand the challenges that come from a somewhat socially-conservative community that is entrenched in tradition. Being feminist or queer is sometimes frowned upon by our communities and elders. When I discovered Phyll Opoku-Gyimah—the executive director of Kaleidoscope UK and director of UK Black pride—I saw her name and I was like “That’s specifically our tribe. That’s an Akan name.” She’s a queer woman and significantly older than me and I was like, “Holy crap. This is what I wanted to see.” I wanted to see what I could possibly look like in 20 years. An example of how I could rock it with such beautiful fierceness. She’s the definition of a badass. Just like myself, she’s proud to be Ghanian, proud to be queer, and proud to be a lesbian. We actually connected because she shared a picture of a traditional Ghanian wedding, but it was a lesbian wedding. I commented on her Instagram and was like, “As a queer Ghanian this just makes me so happy to see.” We ended up following each other on Instagram. Then, through this role, last month a full circle moment happened—I was able to sit on a panel with her. I was fangirling her for years and then here I am sharing space with her as a Black women leader working on 2SLGBTQ rights. It was pretty awesome.  A lot of what you do seems to be in the spirit of empowering others. What does empowerment mean to you? I know some people have feelings about the word empowerment. Empowerment is so much based on the individual. I can’t hold your hand and empower you. But I think you can play a role in fighting to change the conditions around someone that will allow them to be empowered. Also, if people look at me and see a potential possibility model and that empowers them, that’s something that I find really cool. Empowerment to me means being able to achieve a goal, or engage in an activity you may have originally thought you couldn’t do, but through the process—whether it’s accessing information, education, knowledge sharing—you are compelled to actually do that thing. You’re like, “You know what? I can do this. I shouldn’t have imposter syndrome. There’s no barrier in my way.”  "Empowerment to me means being able to achieve a goal, or engage in an activity you may have originally thought you couldn’t do." The weather is getting nicer. Vaccines are rolling out. Are there any looks, outfits, or pieces of jewellery you’re looking forward to showing off when we’re officially allowed to start socializing again? Yes I am! Lesbian earrings. It turns out Queer women and lesbians have somehow gravitated towards this trend of making earrings out of anything. It’s like this weird form of coding for your queer life. I have miniature ketchup earrings, mini pencils, miniature shopping cart earrings. Through quarantine and the pandemic I have just been making earrings. I have like over 300 different pairs of earrings that I’ve either purchased or made myself. They’re a great way to express my style while working remotely, and I always have a fun time when I see people’s reactions to my earrings. Our lockdown in Ontario has been especially hard and long so I’m really excited to show off my collection of earrings.  Writing: Carter Selinger

Paulette Senior is the President and CEO of the Canadian Women's Foundation. In 2016, Paulette joined the Canadian Women’s Foundation as President and CEO after a decade serving as CEO of YWCA Canada. She is a nationally recognized thought-leader on gender equity, women’s empowerment and leadership. We talked with Paulette about her crucial work with CWF, the effects of the pandemic on gender-based issues, great literature for understanding our times, and how tights are a big help in this moment.   "We want to provide women, vulnerable women, girls, and gender-diverse folks with the support they need to thrive."  Can you talk a little bit about your work with The Canadian Women’s Foundation? I’m privileged to be a part of the Canadian Women’s Foundation. It’s been an incredible institution within the women’s sector. We’re actually celebrating our 30th anniversary this year. We raise money and fund organizations that are doing grassroots work around various aspects of gender equality. We combat gender-based violence, support women’s economic prosperity, address skill-building needs, support girl’s confidence and self-esteem, and help girls combat negative messaging they receive about their bodies and abilities. We also promote women’s leadership in various aspects of society. So those are the main areas where we try to raise money and acquire grants. Doing that for thirty years has really been a mission of the Canadian Women’s Foundation. One of our founding mothers was the late but great Rosemary Brown from Vancouver, and one of her infamous sayings is “Until all of us have made it, none of us have made it.” We approach our work with an intersectional lens, a gender-based analysis lens, and a social justice lens. We want to make sure all of us have the opportunity to make it, to fulfill our goals and missions. We also make sure Indigenous women, Black women, and racialized women have a voice through the work we do. Our work is fueled by committed folks like Hillberg & Berk. Companies and individuals who recognize that investing in gender equality benefits all of us, and their generosity feeds into the generosity we’re able to provide. We see these as critical investments. What do your days look like? And what do you find rewarding about this work?One of the things I like about this work is I don’t have a typical day. My personality doesn’t align very well with routine (laughs). I like doing a bunch of different things that contribute toward the same goal. For example, today I just got off a phone call with the advisory committee for the charitable sector. That’s a government-appointed committee that I sit on to look for ways and means to address barriers that might prevent charitable organizations from doing their work effectively. That could be through policies, or regulations that need to be changed. I try to reduce those barriers and make it easier for organizations to serve their communities. That’s an example of a policy table. I also sit at other policy tables that develop and create plans for gender equality, or strategies to end gender-based violence in Canada. I like that. That’s an important part of the work because it’s systemic. I also do a lot of media interviews. As we approach International Women’s Day, interviews become more frequent. Tomorrow I’ll be doing a national syndication for CBC radio. My work is also about setting the strategic priorities, visions, and goals for the foundation. Making sure we’re not just setting those goals but always aligning our work towards the mission and vision of achieving gender equality. I spend a lot of time with my colleagues and senior leadership team figuring out our path forward—whether that is budgeting, checking in to make sure everyone within the organization is ok, and doing a lot of virtual events.  "We’ve proved ourselves as conveners, supporters, and critical voices for the women’s sector, the gender equality sector." The pandemic has increased gender inequality in a few areas. We’re seeing women disproportionately encounter job loss and economic pressure, there’s been increased gendered violence, and women are also more likely to be exposed to stressful, dangerous conditions on the frontlines. Can you talk about what CWF is doing to lessen the burden of these rising inequalities?  I don’t think there has been a time like this in a long time. The pandemic has really had a negative impact. We’ve been responding to the gendered impact of the pandemic in multiple ways. At the grassroots level we’ve worked hard to get emergency funding to organizations that serve women, girls, and gender-diverse people in communities throughout the country. Some of these organizations are shelters, some are sexual assault centers, others are organizations that provide services to women living in low income. We’ve worked hard and out of that work (and our partnership with the government) we’ve been able to secure over 30 million dollars that we’ve distributed to organizations across the country. It’s an emergency response to the pandemic. We’re still in the throes of distributing that money, but we’ve proven to ourselves, the government, and others that this is a critical role for us to play as The Candian Women’s Foundation. We’ve proved ourselves as conveners, supporters, and critical voices for the women’s sector, the gender equality sector.We’ve also done a couple of things to rebuild after the pandemic. We know that Canada needs to have a fundamental shift. So what we’ve said is “Normal was not good for everyone.” It wasn’t very good for Indigenous folks, for Black and racialized folks, for gender-diverse people, and trans folks. So we’ve created some papers in collaboration with other women’s organizations that focus on resetting normal. Instead of going back to normal we’d like to create a new normal where everyone can thrive, and work toward ensuring policies are reset. We want to provide women, vulnerable women, girls, and gender-diverse folks with the support they need to thrive. What are the things we need? A livable wage, affordable and accessible childcare, response to community need, affordable housing in every part of this country but especially for vulnerable groups, and we need the wage gap to be addressed. The wage gap continues to be an issue. We need to address issues around leadership, and when we talk about women’s leadership we’re talking about the spectrum of women so all women can have opportunities to lead as they wish to do so. In the spring and summer we were able to pivot quickly and raise emergency dollars which brought a lot of new folks to the work of the foundation, and then we were able to distribute those dollars. But as we go forward, as the vaccine gets distributed and the virus recedes, and we start to think about recovery—what does recovery look like? We want folks to work with us, to engage with us, to support the kind of recovery that benefits all of us, and we ask that folks will go to our website because we’re focussed on investing in gender justice. We also ask people to send letters to their government representatives to invest in three key areas that will make an impact for women, girls, and gender-diverse people as we recover from the pandemic.  "Instead of going back to normal we’d like to create a new normal where everyone can thrive, and work toward ensuring policies are reset." Who have you drawn inspiration from recently?I would say that it’s not one person. If I look from BC to Newfoundland, I see these amazing women who are leading the public health response to the pandemic. I am so lifted and inspired by them because it’s the first time we’ve seen women’s leadership shine for all Canadians to see, and at one of the most critical times in our lives over the past hundred years. There has really been a tremendous display of women’s capacity to lead us through such a stressful time and keep us safe during a pandemic. So I would say all those women are an inspiration. The women who are visibly leading and keeping track of our progress, and encouraging us to be kind, and being calm in their delivery of these messages every single day. But I’m also inspired by the women who are not as visible but still working just as hard because we depend on the essential services they provide that we need to survive. It’s not one woman, it's these women we see and know and also the ones we don’t see and don’t know who are working so hard behind the scenes.  Say you could choose a short (mandatory) reading list for adults in Canada, what books would you put on it? Why? Books have become even more important to me lately. Whether I’m walking, need a change of pace, or just something to help me fall asleep. All of the above have become very important in terms of the books I choose to read. I don’t think I’ve done enough of that over the years but the pandemic has really shown me what I’ve been missing. In my organization we have taken on a knowledge-building journey on the issues we are addressing around justice and equality. There are a couple of books that we read, discussed, and learned about with each other. One is called Decolonizing Wealth by Edgar Villanueva. It’s a great book that is so pertinent to the work we are doing within the philanthropic space. And the other one is So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo, which is another great book to take on now because—as the Black Lives Matter movement and the Indigenous rights movement and other equality movements have taken the stage over the past year—it’s important to take on some learning. Sometimes it gets a little tiring to be the source of knowledge for folks. It’s important that we take personal responsibility around our own learning and then have conversations. So those are the two books I’d recommend. One is about my organization and the other is really about talking about race, and not being afraid to talk about race. Are there any great books for kids you’ve found that help introduce ideas of gender inequality? Or gender diversity? I love this question. On our website we have a list of books that we recommend. There’s one called Little People Big Dreams (ages 5-8) that’s a good one. Another one I think a lot of girls would appreciate is Women in Science: 50 Fearless Pioneers Who Changed the World by Rachel Ignotofsky. That’s probably for pre-teens. There’s a good one for kids called, All Are Welcome, or there’s another one called Happy in Our Skin, which really gets to the issue of the intersection of race and gender. There’s another one called Just Ask, which encourages young people to ask the tough questions they may be troubled by. Then Girls Resist, which is about girls' activism and leadership, which are areas we work in. I also think Desmond Cole’s book, The Skin We’re In, which came out last year is always a good book to read.  If you could change (or eliminate) one policy or law in Canada what would it be?I think it’s more about enhancing and not necessarily about eliminating, and I think [the pandemic has shown] the critical need for a national action plan on gender-based violence. I believe it’s needed more now than ever because we’ve seen gender-based violence increase worrisomely during the pandemic. Quite frankly I shiver to think about what we’ll uncover as we come out of the pandemic. Folks have called it a shadow pandemic. As the pandemic grew the issues of gender-based violence increased along with it. So I’d love to see [an action plan] in place and I know that there's a commitment from the current federal government because I’m at the table for those conversations, which is important. I want to make sure that we see that through because it’s so critical. It’s really about saving lives.    How do you relax after a difficult day? Do you have any self-care practices that help you recharge and get ready for this important work? I find exercise is important to me, but I’m also finding it very important to be outside. I have never been a winter-loving person but this year I’ve appreciated dressing up as warm as possible and going for walks—to get some fresh air in my lungs. Sometimes I walk with a friend and we’re able to get caught up. I live alone so having company is important and being in conversation is important. And, yeah, exercise however I can get it. If I have to stay inside I have a bike that I use. When I had to cancel our meeting earlier—that was really about taking care of myself and my mental health. I realized I’d worked something like ten straight days and I needed a break. My body told me that. I think I also have to set an example within the organization. So it’s not just about physical health. It’s also about mental health. They affect each other. That’s an important thing to focus on. My day off made a world of difference; it rejuvenated my mindset. And I can tell you I haven’t done that in a long time [laughs]. And so I’m still celebrating two days after taking that day.  Are there any pieces of clothing or jewellery you find meaningful or empowering lately?Well, first of all, I was on the Hillberg & Berk website today and I ordered a couple of International Women’s Day pins. The Venus Pins. And they’re beautiful! They’re beautiful and inspiring so I’m awaiting their arrival. But I’d also like to say thank god for tights [laughs]. Thank God for that element in fashion where I can sit down and make sure my upper body is dressed for business but my lower body is as comfortable as ever. I’m finding that very empowering because at the end of the day it just allows me to completely unwind, yet feel comfortable and not have to be performative in any way.

From 2019-2020, H&B participated in a social entrepreneurship project to bring meaningful work to a women’s collective in Mandalay, Myanmar. Alongside these artisans and our partners, we worked to design and manufacture a new Sparkle Ball™ colour: Shimmer  How it began Empowering women has always been at the heart of Hillberg & Berk, but we wanted to take things a step further by giving a group of talented but systemically impoverished women the resources necessary to empower themselves. We partnered with the Ostro Foundation and Fair Share Myanmar to create jobs and a positive work environment for a collective of women in Mandalay, Myanmar. The task at hand? Creating Sparkle Balls™ in a brand new colour. The colour story Once in Myanmar, we brainstormed with our new team and collectively decided on a light, slightly-iridescent gold—a colour inspired by a natural facial cosmetic called Thanakha. Many women in Myanmar prize Thanakha for its aesthetic value and sun-blocking properties. Several women in the collective wore it daily!  From her hands to yours Each Shimmer Sparkle Ball™ has been handcrafted by a talented woman artisan. The creation process, which involves hand-placing Swarovski crystals into gold clay, takes incredible attention to detail. From the start, these women were up to the task. After a series of lessons with us, they began to make Shimmer the reality we hoped it would be. About the workplace We prioritized a positive working environment with proper tools and equipment, regular nine-to-five weekday hours, fair pay, regular breaks, supportive employers, and freedom to express religious identity. These conditions are human rights and should never be sacrificed for the sake of profit or convenience. It’s not revolutionary; it’s just right.  About the artisans Each woman in our Myanmar collective was hired by husband and wife team Raihan and Thuzar (the co-founders of Fair Share Myanmar). They selected these women based on potential and need: each came from a highly vulnerable, systematically-impoverished community where low pay, long hours, unsafe working conditions, and high levels of debt made it extremely difficult for them to properly care for themselves and their families.  Social impact There are innumerable social and economic benefits that come to communities who place women in positions of economic independence and agency. The Myanmar Project was a way to kick-start those benefits and to rethink the way businesses “do good” in our world. Instead of giving these women goods or money, we gave them a business model, and with that, a chance to do meaningful work in their communities. We reversed the traditional business model of investing in profit first, then donating it back to communities.  Why wear Shimmer? To support women’s economic independence To bridge a global connection  To celebrate cultural difference To empower women you don’t know To empower women you do know To empower yourself. Click here to shop Shimmer.

When Jordan Guildford was fourteen, she began to see her mother differently. Her child’s eye was giving way to a more judicious, adult perspective, and with that came the understanding that her mom was not just a mom, but a woman. “My dad wasn’t really around at all, and I started understanding what his absence meant, as a woman, to my mom.” Without the support of a partner, Jordan’s mom had gone into life-source mode. “We had nothing” says Jordan, who grew up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her mom and two siblings.“We often didn’t have food, heat, or hot water.” A lack of necessities meant her mother’s priority was her children’s wellbeing and survival. Her own wants seemed irrelevant.  Not wanting her mother’s sense of self to dwindle any longer, Jordan suggested to her younger siblings that, instead of using the $20 their grandmother gifted each of them to Christmas-shop for themselves that year, they pool their money and buy their mom some jewellery. Her siblings were in. “We bought mom this little bracelet that looked like leaves woven together. It had what we thought were diamonds but…definitely plastic!” she laughs.  Upon opening the gift on Christmas morning, Jordan’s mother burst into tears and left the room. “I thought we’d hurt her. My brother—who was eight years younger—thought we’d got the wrong one!” But after a few minutes, Jordan’s mother reentered the living room, hair and make-up done, wearing her best clothes.“She sat us down and told us that this piece of jewellery had reconnected her to being a woman and an individual.” The link between jewellery and personal empowerment had been made clear to Jordan. Seeing her mother transform in a matter of minutes, all because of a bracelet and the sentiment behind it, showed how true “look good, feel good” could really be. “It’s as if you feel black and white and then you put on a little piece of jewellery and suddenly you see yourself in colour.” Jordan carried this sentiment with her over the years, but it wasn’t until December 2015 that she saw the opportunity to really put what she’d learned into practice. At a dinner party in her new hometown of Calgary (where she now lives with her husband and two kids, aged six and seven) Jordan and her friends were chatting about charitable initiatives around the holidays. “I noticed there was a focus on initiatives benefiting children, which I think is 100% how it should be, but I’ve seen what it’s like for women, too. If the children don’t have much, the mom has even less.”  Fueled by the memory of her mother and the bracelet, Jordan decided to spearhead a jewellery drive to collect accessories she could give to women in shelters on Christmas. She called this campaign “Gems for Gems,” the intended message being that gems in the community would donate gems to the gems (the women) in shelters. “I had only three weeks to collect, and I had a goal of giving 25 packages,” she recalls. “We collected enough to do 436 packages in three weeks.” Central to the success of the campaign, Jordan says, was not door-to-door soliciting, social media spamming, or other pushy marketing tactics. There was only one drop-off location for the jewellery—the OrangeTheory fitness centre in Calgary—and the staff and members rallied, big-time.“It’s amazing what happens when people come together with a common goal.”  Fast-forward four years and Gems for Gems is a nationally-registered charity whose mission has expanded beyond the realm of crowd-sourcing jewellery and into that of domestic abuse education and prevention. “I wanted to be able to keep the momentum of Gems going year-round,” Jordan says, adding that she didn’t set out on creating a large charity; it just sort of happened. “It wasn’t me trying to make space [for myself of this charity]. I was filling a required space.” Gems still operates their annual jewellery drive (which has reached over 14,000 across Canada) but their outreach now includes a scholarship program and a series of workshops designed to empower survivors. One of the workshops teaches self-defence, and when it first began, Jordan noticed some recurring questions from survivors. Questions like ‘what do I do when I’m being cornered?’ or ‘what do I do when I’m bleeding and I can’t see through blood?’ came up shockingly often, and Jordan understood what this meant: women were planning on returning to their abusers. “I thought, oh my god, I’ve got to be able to do something to make these women feel like leaving and remaining out is an actual option.” She set to researching and discovered that lack of self confidence and lack of financial independence were (and are) two of the leading factors for why women return to abusive situations. Wanting to address these factors, Jordan added more classes to the empowerment series, which now includes workshops in financial literacy, self defence, resilience training, and psychological coping skills. The series is called THRIVE. “Women come into our workshops not being able to make eye contact with you, and then suddenly their heads are up, they’re leaning forward, taking notes, and asking questions. It’s incredible.” Jordan’s personal history as a survivor (she was abused by her priest as a child) has given her the perspective she knows is necessary to facilitate survivor recovery. “I have been grounded in the reality of poverty and abuse, and I want to create change for other people. It’s amazing to live a life focused on that.” Yet the process of operating Gems for Gems is not a healing experience for Jordan herself—nor does she think it should be. “I personally feel that if you’re needing to do something to heal yourself, you probably shouldn’t be working with other people that need help.” That’s not to say that Gems hasn’t had, and isn’t having, a huge personal impact on Jordan; it’s more that her trauma is separate and distant from her charitable work. “The stuff that happened to me was a long time ago. It’s part of what made Gems possible because it’s given me perspective, but I don’t have the pain with it anymore.”  Gems’ team members are expected to have a similar, forward-looking approach. “We don’t talk about backstories at all. That makes us very different in our sector. We are 100% here moving forward.”  Also setting Gems apart from other organizations in their field is the language they employ when discussing abuse. Specifically, they don't use domestic violence as a catch-all for varied types of domestic abuse.  “The reason we say domestic abuse instead of domestic violence is because we see violence as a point on the spectrum under the umbrella of abuse.” In other words, abuse comes in many forms: financial, emotional, sexual—all equally legitimate and all worthy reasons for seeking help. “Calling it domestic violence is problematic to me because, that way, many women who aren’t getting beaten don’t understand that they’re still being abused.” And women who don’t know they are being abused are more likely to stay in unsafe situations, sometimes to the point where things turn fatal. “Our scholarships are named after women who have been murdered by their intimate partners. And in both cases, the situation didn’t turn physical until the first and last time.” Gems is on a mission to educate and empower survivors, which involves showing survivors that resilience comes in many forms, and that there is no “right way” to act resiliently. Maybe resilience means leaving your partner and seeking help at a shelter. Maybe it means getting your nails done in the wake of grief. Maybe it means simply breathing, in and out, over and over. To Jordan, resilience refers to how you come back from difficulties you’ve been given. “I believe we all have the right to wallow and stay angry. But we also have the choice to not. And I feel the responsibility, as a people with breath in us, to take the life we have and make it as beautiful as we can.” Jordan’s daughter, Lily, seems to have tapped into her mother’s philosophy already, possessing a knack for de-escalating tension and making other children feel safe around her. “My kids, Lily and Gabriel, grew up in the centre of this charity and it’s changed how they are. They behave differently, they think differently—the things that come out of their mouths are different.” Jordan recalls an incident in which Lily was only four years old. Walking up to an older, bigger boy whom she’d witnessed bullying a smaller boy, Lily said, “do you see that? Do you see how sad he is right now?” She looked from the small boy to the big boy as if to say, did you really mean to hurt him? Taking his cue, the big boy walked away. “It just blew my mind,” says Jordan. “She didn’t get mad or call him a bully. She just went in and instinctively changed his perspective.”  Changing perspective is central to what Gems for Gems does, and will continue to do, as they help survivors transcend their circumstances. They are showing women that pain can translate to power, and that every single breath can be an act of resilience.  Writer: Mica LemiskiPhotos: Provided

When Jacque Tisher’s first daughter, Acacia, was born with spina bifida and hydrocephalus—birth defects involving the spinal cord and brain—she knew her experience of motherhood was going to be drastically different than what she’d always imagined. As Acacia underwent thirteen surgeries in her first year of life, Jacque lived at the hospital. “Watching her struggle with life and come close to death in infancy was terrifying—it was such a different experience,” says Jacque. “Even so, I had the opportunity and ability to bond with her very strongly.”  Jacque—pronounced like “Jackie,” and named after Jackie Kennedy—knew she had a choice: to be bitter, or to make the world better. She chose the latter. “I’m very solution-based at living. If you see a problem, you come up with a solution.” As a new registered nurse planning to start her career in emergency, Jacque decided to change direction and specialize by becoming a pediatric and neonatal intensive care nurse. “I wanted to be able to help other people’s kids like they’d helped mine.” she says.  Working in a unit where babies with complex medical needs were born, Jacque became increasingly bothered by the fact that many children lived their whole lives in the hospital. (Back then, it was very challenging and in some cases impossible to take children home if they required life support or round-the-clock care.) Jacque often argued with doctors about what quality of life truly meant, advocating for kids to have a life outside the sterile, ten-by-ten rooms they’d been assigned. “These kids would have 65 nurses they thought were their mom. They grew up institutionalized because of their health needs, looking at a TV and never touching the grass, seeing the stars, or feeling the warmth of the sun.” The solution—or at least a partial one—was for Jacque to become a foster parent to children who would otherwise be confined to the hospital, and who lacked families of their own. Inspiring this decision was Jasmine, a little girl who’d been living in the hospital for two years. “I saw her every day when I came to work. I fell in love with her and thought, I want to take her home.”  But about a month after Jasmine joined the family (then made up of Jacque, her husband, and daughters Acacia and Victoria) she passed away. Adding to Jacque’s grief was the subsequent loss of two infant children of her own, both of whom had been born prematurely and hadn’t survived the complications. Despite these losses, Jacque’s desire to be a mother never wavered, in part because she has always conceptualized motherhood as an opportunity to care for a special gift from God—a child. “A child is never really ours. They’re their own person. We get the gift of loving them unconditionally, guiding them, being part of their life, and developing that precious life.” Jacque went on to have a son (Isaac) and fostered several more children with special needs, one of whom was Hope. But bringing Hope into the family meant advocating for in-home medical support so that Jacque could sleep through the night and still go to work twice a week. “All families should have that support. If you have a child on life-support or that has complex medical needs, health care should step in and help.” But 24 hours after Jacque got the support she asked for, Hope passed away. “I thought, this isn’t okay. So, I decided to become the voice for other families who needed care like I did and started Hope’s Home.” Beginning as a small home daycare for children with complex medical needs, Hope’s Home was originally run out of Jacque’s own home. Jacque wanted to change the reality of what it meant to have a child with special needs while trying to pursue a career. “All my decisions come from raising my little girl, Acacia, and understanding what it’s like to be a mom while trying to maintain employment.” With Hope’s Home up and running, it soon became apparent that Jacque had tapped into a huge community need: over the course of 14 years, Hope’s Home grew from a privately-run daycare to a multi-million dollar non-profit with 230 employees spread across caregiving facilities in Regina, Prince Albert, Saskatoon, and Warman, Saskatchewan. Today, Hope’s Home operates a number of early learning & childcare centres to support both children with complex medical needs and typically developing children. Along with medically-safe, Monday-Friday daycares staffed by nurses, early childhood educators, and developmental workers, Hope’s Home also operates several supportive living homes for children in foster care.  These live-in homes weren’t originally part of Jacque’s plan. “At first I wanted Hope’s Home to be a daycare and to offer some respite. I wanted kids to go home with their families at night.” But this goal proved to be slightly idealist—because not all kids have families, or even foster families, to return home to consistently. Take Hope, for example, whose mother’s circumstances and lack of ability rendered her unable to care for a daughter born with complex medical needs. “There are times when parents truly can’t provide care,” says Jacque.   There are also situations in which caregiving can become too big a task for a single set of parents to handle—no matter how dedicated, loving, or capable they may be. The Trudels, for example, are a family of five in which the youngest child, Thomas, has a genetic condition undocumented anywhere else in the world. Parents Shianne and Ivan were thrown quickly into a world of complex medical devices and admittedly scary drugs. Questions like “When should we give him morphine?” and “When should we give him Ativan?” became part of their everyday lives. Recognizing they did not have the capacity to care for Thomas while working and parenting their other two young daughters, Shianne and Ivan sent Thomas to live at Hope’s Home in Prince Albert. “[Shianne and Ivan] are still Mom and Dad and part of his world, but they recognize that we’re here to be an extension of their family,” says Jacque. Helping families like the Trudels is exactly why Jacque is so enthusiastic about her working life. “They’re a beautiful example of why we do what we do, and why our staff shows up to work everyday.” She is also buoyed by the memory of Acacia, who passed away in 2011 at the age of eighteen. “I always say to people: you have to know your why. So, why do you get up in the morning, why you do what you do, and why are you passionate about your job or what you do in life?” Acacia is Jacque’s why. “I think of her as an angel,” she says, adding that, as an organ donor, Acacia saved five lives after she passed. “She’s my hero. I would not be who I am if I wasn’t her mom.” Even with such a powerful why fueling her mission, Jacque’s work with Hope’s Home can be difficult—emotionally, physically, and even from a business standpoint, as Jacque is trained as a nurse and not a business expert. “I didn’t know it was going to be a 14 million dollar business with 230 staff! But yeah, that happened,” she says, as if still in shock over those numbers. “I have taken many leadership courses to mentor, lead and coach my staff.  Recognizing gaps in knowledge, I even took a course called Accounting for Dummies! Because I had to have a better understanding of my financial records.” Jacque is not the only ladder-climber in her family. She describes her mother, Jeanie, as an absolute worker.“Growing up, my family ran a restaurant, a bowling alley, a pizza place, and a youth centre where all the kids hung out,” she says, adding that, since her dad was a preacher, her mom took a lead in running the business—without any formal education. Jeanie later got her GED on a whim (she was forty and aced it) and, after her divorce, worked her way up from cook to Flight Chief at the Minot Air Force Base. “She’s just an amazing woman with a business mind, and I believe I have that same mind. She is my mentor and best friend.”   Jacque’s inherited business savvy continues to drive Hope’s Home toward new opportunities, but her working life has not eclipsed her individual wants and needs. For example, she’s working on a book, The Journey of Hope. “The story needs to be told,” she says, adding that the book is largely about Acacia. “The things she taught me growing up…she really was an incredible daughter.” Jacque is also getting remarried this year. She has been divorced for fourteen years (amicably so) but it’s only recently that she’s been open to partnership again. “I thought, never again, my whole life is work and children, I don’t have time for that. And then I met this guy. I thought, oh my gosh, this is amazing.”  Jacque is taking a no-big-deal approach to wedding planning. “I’ll get a dress and it’ll be fine!” she laughs, adding that the wedding will be held on her family’s acreage in North Dakota. “We’ll all cook the food and we’ll have family and friends to share the day with. I’m sure all the neighbours will show up, too.”  Her kids will also be there—three from her side, and three from fiancé Jason’s. It’s evidence that Jacque’s best talents are building families and being a mother.   Writer: Mica LemiskiPhotography: Taryn Gibson