Labours of Love
For a brief, blazing, perfect moment in time about 15 years ago, I got to do communications for Canada’s Minister of State for the Status of Women, Helena Guergis.
How we got there – and how she left – is a long crazy story. Let’s skip past all of that and just say, when I arrived in Gatineau in 2009, I was thrilled to be there and she was thrilled to have me.
Our timing was perfect: she had important things to say, and I was keen to help her say them. Writing speeches, Op-eds, memos, House questions, video scripts and anything else with Helena was a blast: she was not afraid to call a spade a spade. She was among the first to call “honour killings” murder, and “forced marriage” kidnap and rape; and the more plainly I described these issues in her speeches, the happier she was.
We were two thick-skinned, outspoken Ontario Tories, ripping a strip in Ottawa, speaking forthrightly on the needs and rights of women across the country. Having spent years as a volunteer and fundraiser at a local women’s shelter, Helena was particularly committed to the protection of abused women, and she considered her attention to missing and murdered aboriginal women a sacred mission. When virtually no member of the Harper government could meet with a women’s group on a positive footing, Helena could walk into meetings and be treated with respect by stakeholder groups. She GOT it; she was the real deal. It was impressive to see.
Still, working in the ultra-bureaucratic, unionized atmosphere of a portfolio like of Status of Women Canada takes a toll on change agents. For every great idea Helena or I had, there were 4 or 5 bureaucrats around to explain to us why such things could not be done. It was draining, and demoralizing. I got used to it, and tried never to let it hold me back in pushing for new events and new ideas.
I wasn’t surprised, late one afternoon, when an office manager in one of the departments carefully cleared her throat and informed me: “Mrs. Smith. Some of the staff on the floor have asked to have a word with you.”
Oh, dear. I’ve had this conversation before: as a campaign manager once told me, “You’re too blonde, too aggressive, too loud, and too American.”
I stood politely in the hallway as a little group of four women approached me. The youngest would have been 50, the oldest over 60. They were all neatly dressed in suits, with careful hair-dos, and all of them were French. I braced myself for the complaints about my aggressive, Conservative, English-Ontario behaviour.
“We just wanted to say,” the group leader began, “That we really like the way you get things done. We really admire your confidence.”
“Oh,” I replied, confused. “Thank you.”
“And we really like the way you look, with your nice suits and good hair,” the second added with a warm smile. “When you come here to tell everyone what to do, you know exactly what is needed and we feel very clear when you leave.”
“No kidding?” I exclaimed incredulously, adding, “I hope I have not offended anyone.”
“No!” the third women spoke up. “All our lives we have worked believing that women should be confident in their jobs. When you show up and tell us what is going on and what to do, we feel like are part of it. It makes us so happy! Thank you.”
I stood waiting, still expecting an ax to fall: surely, this little meeting had been called because somebody had a criticism to deliver.
None came.
I only looked upon the warm, smiling faces of hard-working women who had spent decades delivering on their jobs, now happily observing the fruits of their labours: a younger woman in a position of authority, confidently assigning tasks and asking for reports, fully expecting that requests would be met.
I had worried my assertive approach would offend them; in fact, it inspired them.
Every now and then this memory[1] flashes through my mind, and it always makes me smile. In the past week – you may have noticed – I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about women and the great qualities that women show and share with others to make life better for everyone. These senior women went out of their way to support and encourage me during a challenging time – I will never forget it!
[1] For some reason, also, I’ve always remembered clearly that they mentioned “your nice suits and your good hair.” I guess because I made the effort to dress like my work at Status of Women was important, it made the people around me feel important.
“There are four ways, and only four ways, in which we have contact with the world. We are evaluated and classified by these four contacts: what we do, how we look, what we say, and how we say it.”
–Dale Carnegie
